Part V: The Ghosts of the Past
by angeli0722
Summary: {Complete} Year 5 AU fic! Sirius is alive & stays that way. When a mysterious letter appears at his trial, his & the Gryffie trio's lives are forever changed as they face the past. Loads of ships, such as: mild HG, total RH, SiriusOC. Long story, part
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:** Don't own Harry Potter, though I wish I did.

I started writing this fic about a year & a half before OoP came out, so it is definitely from _that _particular era. So, sorry if parts of the fic are utterly cliche now, but they weren't when I started this fic! I do take particular pride in my Hermione subplot. To my knowledge, I'm the only (?) author who's pulled that particular act of insanity, & it's based on SS & PoA. And trying to create the craziest plot imaginable. Hope I've succeeded.

I'm a traditional shipper, but I really enjoy putting strange twists on everything. And the ships I _hate_, I make it so the characters are related & therefore hooking up would be incest & morally wrong. I do add in a lot of OC's, because I happen to think they're fun. My main OC, Isabelle, is a type of anti-Mary Sue. If she had her way, she so would be. But where would the fun be in that?

Also, I do admit to using way too much music in my fics. Not songfic, but when a song is so perfect for the scene, who am I to resist?

It is so freaky to re-read this, since I wrote it so long ago. I have to admit it's not _that _bad, but it's not my best work. So, don't give up on me, 'k? And don't forget to hit that lovely review button. Love those.

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**Chapter 1**

Severus Snape briskly walked through the hallways, and up to Professor Dumbledore's office. He paused at the door, knocked, and entered the room, closing the door tightly behind him. Professor Dumbledore, seated behind his desk, motioned for him to sit in the leather chair nearest to the desk.

"You wanted to see me, Professor Dumbledore?" he asked.

"Yes, Severus. As you know, Lord Voldemort has returned, to his full power. I need every available witch and wizard I can get to help defeat him. Because of this, I need to ask you a favor."

Snape bristled. He knew what was coming next, and he didn't like it one bit.

"Severus, you know that I cannot force you to divulge the whereabouts of Isabelle Evans and Grace Black. I helped you perform the spell, and I do not know who or where they are." He smiled. "I know that you have reservations about exposing Isabelle, but she would be a wonderful asset to Hogwarts in these trying times. And an asset to Harry, as well."

"Yes, but what of Grace? It would be nearly impossible to expose Isabelle, and not Grace. And we agreed, that as long as Black was a criminal, that it was in Grace's best interests to protect her from ridicule."

"Something tells me that Sirius might not be on the run much longer," Dumbledore replied with a twinkle in his eye, and withdrew a old, yellowed envelope.

"What is that?" Snape inquired, through narrowed eyes.

"It seems that Isabelle wrote a letter the night that the Potters died, right before you found her. A Ministry official found it among some old, undelivered mail, and gave it to me the other day, luckily. The letter, combined with the children's testimony, should be enough to set Sirius free."

Severus Snape stared into the fire. He was not fond of Sirius Black, and never had been. There were only two things that they shared in common, and one was lost to the past. The other, however, was a love for the same woman - Isabelle Evans. Isabelle. Severus knew that the one thing that Isabelle wanted more than anything was for Sirius to be free, and to have her family back. It ate at Snape that helping the one person he loved would also help the one person he hated. He thought for a few minutes, and looked at Dumbledore.

"Alright. Speaking of Isabelle, please excuse me. Tonight is her birthday, and I want her to have one good night before facing all of the demons of her past."

"Of course," said Professor Dumbledore. Isabelle Evans must be a snake charmer, he mused, if she was able to soften Severus Snape's hardened, bitter heart.

-----

Harry laid down on the bed, and stared at the ceiling. He had only arrived at Number Four, Privet Drive an hour ago, but it already seemed like an eternity. Memories from last week clouded his mind–the horror of Lord Voldemort's return, Peter Pettigrew's weak, sniveling face, Cedric Diggory, laying there dead, the ghost of his parents. His parents...

More than anything, Harry missed his parents right now. A dull ache filled his chest, as he thought of the parents that he'd never met. Lord Voldemort, the most powerful Dark wizard in a century, killed Harry's parents fourteen years ago. Miraculously, Harry escaped Lord Voldemort's curse, leaving Harry with a lightning-shaped scar on his forehead, and Lord Voldemort on the brink of death. Everyone thought that Lord Voldemort was gone forever, but with Peter Pettigrew's help, he had returned, more evil and powerful than ever.

Wormtail. It was Wormtail who had betrayed Harry's parents to Lord Voldemort. Most people believed that Sirius Black, Harry's father James' best friend, was the Potters' secret keeper. But, Sirius and Peter Pettigrew switched places at the last minute. Peter framed Sirius for the Potters' murders, and Sirius was sent to Azkaban, the wizards' prison. Sirius escaped from Azkaban in Harry's third year at Hogwarts, and had remained on the loose ever since. Although Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Professor Dumbledore knew the truth, there was no evidence to free Sirius.

Harry sighed. Sirius was his godfather, and he desperately wished for Sirius to be proven innocent, so that he wouldn't have to live with his horrible relatives, the Dursleys, anymore. Mrs. Dursley was Harry's mother Lily's older sister, and hated magic. So did her stuffy husband, and rotund son Dudley. Dudley was especially cruel to Harry, bullying him around and generally making his life miserable. When Harry arrived at Privet Drive, his trunk with all of his spellbooks, wand, and broomstick were locked in the cupboard downstairs. The Ministry of Magic prohibited underage wizards from performing magic on holidays, but luckily Fred and George Weasley taught Harry how to pick locks last year. All Harry needed was an opportunity.

"Harry! Harry! Dinner," shouted Aunt Petunia.

Harry rolled his eyes, and sat up on the bed. He slowly made his way downstairs and into the kitchen, where two pieces of toast and a small piece of fried ham were on his plate. Obviously Aunt Petunia hadn't given up on Dudley's diet, considering the outrageous bill of his custom-tailored uniforms last year. Aunt Petunia was on a quest this summer to reduce Dudley's size to at least a small elephant. The only thing that kept Dudley's temper in check was that Harry got even less food than Dudley did, so Harry made a mental note to write his friends immediately for more food.

"So, Dudders, are you ready for our holiday to Spain?" Uncle Vernon inquired from behind his newspaper.

Spain? Harry thought. Why would they go to Spain?

"Oh, yeah, Harry. We're looking to expand the drill market into Spain this year, so the boss is sending me out there tomorrow to look at the potential mill site. Aunt Petunia and Dudley are going along, too, to look at the sights, so you're going to stay with Mrs. Figg for the week," Uncle Vernon said.

Ugh, Harry groaned inwardly. Mrs. Figg, with her house full of cats, and nothing to do except listen to her old stories and look at her photograph book for the millionth time. Luckily, Harry hadn't stayed with Mrs. Figg since before he went to Hogwarts, but it seemed that his luck had finally run out.

Harry poked at his dinner, and asked to be excused from the table. Sadly, he sat back down on his bed, and closed his eyes, thinking, can this day possibly get any worse? Fortunately, Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon seemed to forget about him in all of the hustle and bustle of packing for Spain, so Harry was able to hide, quietly, in his room.

-----

Sighing, Isabelle exited the Interstate and turned onto Broad Street. The winding road with its magnificent view of the James River usually lifted her spirits. The view on top of Church Hill took her breath away the first time she saw it, and had never lost its effect. Richmond unfolded beneath Church Hill, a city full of industrial factories, antebellum mansions, and modern buildings. Often, Isabelle took her breakfast outside on the lawn, and watched the city wake up. But tonight, she barely noticed the night skyline as she pulled into her parking spot, and walked into her loft. 

Kicking off her shoes, Isabelle padded across the living room, and dropped into a leather chair. She grabbed the remote from the end table, and flipped on the television set. Surfing through five sports games, three action movies, and two infomercials, she settled on a rerun of the Fresh Prince of Bel Air.

Across the room, a shadow quietly crept up to the chair and pulled her hair. Isabelle jumped up, and laughed. "One day, you are going to get hurt doing that," she said.

"But not today," Severus Snape replied. She looks so fragile, he thought. What if Dumbledore was wrong? He didn't know what had happened to her, the intense pain of it all. What if she's better off here, where she can't be hurt anymore?

"Earth to Snape. Hello???" Isabelle's voice jolted him out of his thoughts. "What's with you tonight? I'm talking dinner, and you're off somewhere in never-never land. Is anything wrong?"

Swallowing hard, he chose his words carefully. Isabelle always saw through a lie, and luckily, she hadn't heard about what happened at Hogwarts last week. "Well, to be perfectly honest, there is something that I want to discuss with you. But, not now. I was just thinking about how long it's been since I've seen you, that's all. And dinner–that's already taken care of." Snape pointed in the direction of the dining room.

A beautiful antique lace tablecloth covered the dining room table, which was set with fine bone china. The soft candlelight reflected off beautiful, gold-rimmed goblets, filled to the brim with perfectly chilled wine. Tears filled Isabelle's eyes, which quickly turned to laughter when she recognized the food on the table. Chocolate frogs, fizzing wizzbees, Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans–it looked like half of Zonko's candy shop!

"Happy thirtieth birthday, Isabelle," Snape said softly.

Laughing, Isabelle turned around, and hugged him fiercely. After all, he was the only family she had left, really, and he had always managed to know exactly how to make her feel better about anything. Even turning thirty years old.

"Come on, already!" she exclaimed. "Do you know how long it's been since I've had a chocolate frog?"

Between chasing frogs and spitting out unsavory Bertie Bott's beans, Isabelle caught Snape up on several months' worth of dancing anecdotes. She had finally quit performing in the Richmond Ballet, preferring to work instead as a dance instructor. The cut in pay had been difficult, but her joy of teaching more than made up for the sacrifice. She was so consumed with telling him about her lesson plans for the fall, that she didn't realize that she was completely manipulating the conversation. Which was perfect, as far as Snape was concerned. He was looking to avoid questions about his job, anyway.

-----

Sirius felt like a caged animal, pacing Dumbledore's office back and forth, wearing a trail into the rug. The door opened, and Sirius whirled around, expecting Professor Dumbledore. He only hoped the dementors weren't with him. Exhaling a sigh of relief, Sirius nervously laughed. It was only his longtime friend, Remus Lupin. 

"Expecting someone else?" Remus asked with a small grin.

"Expecting something else," Sirius replied. After escaping from Azkaban, the dementors who guarded the prison had been hunting for him. Cold, lifeless beings, the dementors slowly drove the prisoners into insanity by removing all hope from their minds. As a final punishment, the dementors would administer their kiss, which sucked the soul of the prisoner out of his body, leaving only the empty shell. Sirius shuddered.

"Dumbledore sent me an owl last night. I figured that you would need all of the support that you can get. How were you discovered?" Remus inquired.

Sirius sighed. "I was talking to Harry in the hospital wing, and didn't realize that Madame Pomfrey had walked into the room. By the time that I realized she was there, she had seen me, and it was too late. She ran up to Dumbledore's office, so he had to report me to the Ministry of Magic."

Suddenly, the door flew open, and Dumbledore strode in and sat down behind his desk. Remus and Sirius nervously pulled up two leather chairs to the desk, and sat.

"Well, Sirius, the news is both good and bad. The Ministry will provide you a trial, if you voluntarily turn yourself in. Ministry officials are willing to conduct an inquiry into your case, since no trial was held fifteen years ago. However, the punishment, if convicted, is a life sentence in Azkaban. I was able to convince the Ministry not to allow the dementor's kiss. This is the good news."

"And the bad news?" Sirius groaned.

"The trial is tomorrow at noon."

-----

Isabelle tossed and turned for hours until falling into a fitful sleep. Her dream transported her to another place, to a memory long thought forgotten... 

_The house was empty. Empty of furniture, and empty of people. Isabelle wandered up and down the hallways, stopping occasionally to peek into a room. She paused at her parents' bedroom, turned the handle, and walked inside. _

_A lump filled her throat as she saw the empty space where furniture once stood. The magnificent brass bed, the quilted coverlet, the rocking chair by the window–all gone. All sold by her sister Petunia, after her parents had died two winters ago when Isabelle was only six years old. Her mother had died first, of the cancer, people whispered. The cancer turned her vivacious mother into a lifeless ragdoll, and the change had been too much for her father to bear. Six weeks after her mother was buried, her father left the house with a pistol, and never came back. _

_Petunia and her new husband had moved back into the house to take care of the estate, and look after Isabelle. But, after the money had been sorted, the furniture sold, and the house scrubbed down, Petunia's husband took a job far away selling drills, and Petunia left with him yesterday. She overheard Petunia telling Vernon how happy she was that her other sister was moving back into the house so that she could get rid of Isabelle. It seemed that she simply was a part of the property, passed from sister to sister. Besides, she heard her sister say, what if Isabelle was one of them? _

_Isabelle's sister Lily was a witch, and Petunia hated magic. In fact, Petunia hated anything out of the ordinary, so it was no surprise that Petunia despised Isabelle's tomboyish ways and refusal to act like a "girl". Isabelle refused to be dressed up like a doll, so she spent most of her time outside hiding in the cliffs to avoid Petunia. She didn't really remember Lily, because Lily was usually away at school, and had been since she was born. _

_Lily had just graduated from the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and was set to arrive at the house any minute. She had taken a nearby job in Dover, as an assistant researcher at the Institute to Preserve Magical Artifacts. Her best friend Gina also had a job there, so she was going to be moving in, too. Along with three other people, but Isabelle couldn't remember exactly who. It's awfully hard to make out names through keyholes sometimes. _

_All of a sudden, Isabelle heard a horrible racket at the front door. She ran for the closet, and shut the door. _

_"__Isabelle! Isabelle, where are you? Isabelle!" shouted a voice from downstairs. _

_Lily Evans was in a panic. Her sister had been left alone, all last night, and all day. What if something had happened to her? She had thought Petunia would've at least had the decency to wait until Lily had gotten there, but as soon as Lily was on her way, Petunia left. Never mind that the average thinking person would realize that a cross-country journey with five people and all of their belongings would take more than a few hours. _

_"__I'll kill her! I'll kill her!" Lily shouted in a rage. _

_Isabelle tensed up. She hadn't expected a warm reaction from Lily, but an actual death threat sent her into a panic. Quickly, she ran to the window, opened it up, and scooted down the lattice work to the ground below, careful to avoid the rose thorns. She looked around, saw no one, and ran for the cliffs. At least no one would find her there. _

_She ran, stumbling, through the open field, stopping at the cliff's edge. The house overlooked the magnificent white cliffs of Dover, and it was a spectacular sight. She slowed down, and walked down a crudely marked trail to an old Roman fort. This was her retreat. Covered by ivy and partially hidden by the cliff, the fort was undistinguishable from its surroundings. Isabelle hurried inside, drew up her knees to her chest, and cried herself to sleep. _

_Two hours later, Isabelle woke up, hearing the sound of a whistle. The whistle came closer and closer, until it stopped on top of the fort. Isabelle scooted further inside the fort, but the noise alerted the whistler to the fort below. Slowly, a figure came into view, and sat down at the entrance of the fort, leaning against the right side. _

_Isabelle stiffened as a pair of grey-brown eyes met her own. She crossed her arms, and sat in stony silence, not looking away. _

_The stranger's eyes looked away, towards the English Channel. "Beautiful view, isn't it?" the stranger said. _

_Isabelle replied, "It's prettier at sunset. The waves are positively nonexistent this time of day. So go away, and leave me alone." _

_The stranger didn't say anything in reply, but simply stretched out his legs in the doorway. He was younger than Vernon, she thought, but not by much. However, he's certainly a lot skinner than Vernon, she mused, and couldn't help but giggle thinking about Vernon's beefy frame. The giggle seemed to encourage the stranger, because he turned around to face Isabelle. _

_"__Would you like to see a trick?" he asked, taking a deck of cards out of his pocket. Not waiting for a reply, he shuffled the deck. As he was about to finish, the entire deck of cards exploded in his face into little pieces. Isabelle giggled as the pieces reassembled themselves, and shuffled back together perfectly. Maybe this stranger wasn't mean, after all. _

_"__Do it again?" she asked. _

_"__Sure," he replied, as the pack exploded again. "Want to see something else?" _

_"__Like what?" Isabelle inquired curiously. _

_"__Like this." All of a sudden, bubbles of all different sizes and colors filled the fort. The bubbles suddenly sprouted, tiny, perfect gold wings and flew out the entrance over the water. _

_"__Wow." Isabelle was enraptured by the figure before her, with his grey-brown eyes, dark hair, and chiseled face. _

_"__I don't believe we've been properly introduced," said the stranger. "I'm Sirius. Sirius Black," and he put out his hand. _

_"__Nice to meet you, Sirius Black," she said as she shook his hand. "I'm Isabelle Rose Evans, and no one wants me," she whispered softly. _

_"__Now, why would you say that?" Sirius asked, his head cocked to one side. _

_"__Because, my sister Petunia left yesterday, and when my sister Lily came, she walked in and shouted that she was going to kill me," Isabelle began to cry. _

_"__Hey, come here," Sirius said. Isabelle flew into his arms for the first real hug she had received since her mother died, and cried on his shoulder. "Lily didn't want to kill you. She wanted to find you because she was worried about you. She wanted to kill Petunia for leaving you alone all night and all day." _

_"__Really?" came the muffled reply. _

_"__Really. She's been looking for you for hours. We all have." _

_"__Who's we?" _

_"__We are Lily, your sister, and James, her boyfriend, who also happens to be my best friend. And James' twin sister, Gina, and our friend Remus. Oh, yeah, and me. So why don't you come back up to the house with me, so you and Lily can give us a tour?" _

_Isabelle smiled. "Ok. Race you," as she scampered out of the fort, legs flying. For such a small girl, Isabelle was quite fast, and Sirius kept losing his footing on the cliffs. _

_"__Come on!" she shouted. _

_"__I'm trying!" came the reply from below. _

_"__Try harder!" _

_Sirius finally got to the top of the cliff, and with great effort, caught up with the little girl, panting. _

_"__Ok. You win. How about a piggyback ride?" he asked, and Isabelle happily climbed on his back, and the two made their way back to the house. _

_From a hundred feet away, Isabelle could see Lily's face, framed in the doorway. _

_"__Isabelle!" she screamed, and ran towards Sirius and Isabelle. "Isabelle!" _

"Isabelle!" came a voice close to her ear. "Isabelle!"

Isabelle shot up in her bed, nearly hitting heads with Severus. "Oh, sorry!" she exclaimed. "I didn't realize you were here. I don't even think I realized I was here."

"Weird dream?" he asked.

"Very." Shaking her head, she firmly put the memory out of her mind. Those days were a lifetime ago. "So, what do I owe the honor of a nighttime visit?"

Severus knitted his brow. He still wasn't sure this was a good idea, but he spoke anyway. "Well, I forgot to tell you about your birthday present. The thing is, we have to disapperate to get there, and because of the time change, we have to leave at 5:30 a.m."

He wouldn't quite meet her eyes, as she mulled over his statement. "Five-thirty a.m.? Five-thirty–does that mean we have to account for another time zone?" she mused. Severus shifted uncomfortably.

"Time zone–five-thirty–hmmm...," she thought. Suddenly, her eyes lit up. "Five-thirty a.m. is 11:30 a.m. in England! You're taking me to England tomorrow!" she exclaimed with joy. "For lunch? Shopping? The ballet? Tell me!" she begged.

"Nope. It's a surprise. Now, go get some beauty sleep," he replied as he walked out of the room.

-----

Harry woke up with a jolt. Uncle Vernon was standing over him, yelling something that he just wasn't awake enough to hear. 

"Harry! Wake up! We're leaving in ten minutes," Uncle Vernon puffed.

Harry quickly dressed and stepped out into the hallway. It was chaos. Clothes, shoes, and suitcases were everywhere, taking up nearly all of the walking space. Dudley was throwing games and toys out of his bedroom into a large duffel bag to keep him occupied for the plane ride, Harry guessed. Aunt Petunia stepped out of her bedroom, and snapped at Harry to start loading the car.

Twenty minutes later, they left the driveway, with Uncle Vernon in a very foul mood. He slammed on the brakes in front of Mrs. Figg's house, and ordered Harry out of the car. Harry reluctantly walked up to the doorway, and rang the front bell. A middle-aged lady opened the door, and let Harry in, as the Dursleys sped away. Harry plopped into an overstuffed floral armchair in the living room, his heart filled with despair.

Mrs. Figg's heart went out to the growing boy who looked so much like his father that it almost hurt her eyes to look at him. She closed the door, and turned around to Harry.

"Now, then, I think I'll show you to your room," she said, walking up the stairs.

Harry had no choice but to follow her up the stairs, and down a narrow hallway to the end. Mrs. Figg opened up the doorway, and the two walked into the room. Harry couldn't believe his eyes. His spellbooks were lined up neatly on a bookshelf. Parchment, ink, and his wand lay on the desk. The wardrobe was filled with his Hogwarts robes. And on the bed–was that his Firebolt? He turned to Mrs. Figg, mouth open.

"You're a–a"

"A witch," she finished. "And you are growing to be a mighty fine wizard, from what I've heard."

Harry was speechless. "All this time?" he managed to croak out.

"All this time," she replied with a smile. "You look a little hungry. How about some breakfast?"

After a delicious breakfast, Harry pushed back his plate with a grin. Maybe this year's holidays won't be so bad after all, he thought.

Mrs. Figg nervously cleared her throat. "Um, Harry, I have to talk to you about something." She swallowed hard before continuing. "It's about your godfather, Sirius Black. Last week, he was caught in Hogwarts by a faculty member, which forced Professor Dumbledore to turn him in to the Ministry."

Harry slumped in his chair. "And?" he asked, not really knowing if he wanted to know the answer.

"Well," Mrs. Figg went on, "Professor Dumbledore pulled a few strings with the Ministry, and arranged for a trial. He's asked for you to be a witness, as well as Ron and Hermione."

Sirius couldn't go back to Azkaban, Harry thought desperately. He just couldn't. Harry blinked back tears, and looked at Mrs. Figg.

Mrs. Figg continued. "I'm very sorry, Harry. Professor Dumbledore told me the truth about what happened the night your parents died, and I believe him. But, without some concrete evidence, I'm afraid that Sirius' chance of being found innocent is very slim."

"When is the trial?" Harry asked in a very small voice.

"Today at noon. We need to leave in an hour, so we should go get ready."

Harry sadly stood, and walked upstairs to his room, sitting on the bed. How can I convince a jury of witches and wizards of the truth? Harry thought. I'll simply find a way, he decided, as he crossed over to the wardrobe to get dressed for the trial.

-----

Isabelle hummed as she walked over to her closet, peering inside. Picking out several possible outfits, she tossed them on the bed. Just when she had eliminated a red pantsuit and a blue dress, Severus knocked on the door. 

"Come in," Isabelle called.

Severus walked in, shaking his head in amazement at the mess. Clothes were everywhere, covering every available square inch of space. Why do girls need so many clothes? he wondered. And Muggle clothes, at that.

"Trying to choose the lucky outfit amongst the thousands of possible choices?" he asked dryly.

"If you must know," she huffed, "I barely have anything to wear. And since you won't tell me where we're going, I don't know how to dress. Unlike some people, I don't like to wear the same drab black robe every day of the year."

He smiled. Isabelle was a master of the sarcastic comeback. "Since you don't have anything to wear, it's a good thing that I came in here, then," as he gave her a box with a red ribbon around it. "You're going to need this for today, and I know for a fact that although you have everything else under the sun, you don't have one of these."

Intrigued, Isabelle quickly untied the ribbon and lifted the lid off the box. Inside lay a beautiful, deep sapphire blue robe. "Witches' robe?" she puzzled.

"Yes, I can assure you that you will be on the cutting edge of witch fashion in this," he assured her. "I thought it would go well with your necklace. I've never seen you take it off, so I had the robemaker design a robe around it."

How sweet, she thought, as tears welled up in her eyes. "Why are we going to Diagon Alley?" she asked sharply.

"You'll see. Now hurry up. We need to leave in fifteen minutes."

Fifteen minutes! Isabelle scurried around, throwing the robe on, and quickly fastened her necklace. She tore her brush through her hair, fastening it in a loose French twist. Dabbing on a bit of lipstick and perfume, she stepped into the living room.

"Ready?" Severus asked.

"Ready," she replied, and they both dissaparated with a pop.

-----

Harry and Mrs. Figg quickly made their way through Diagon Alley, and hurried up the marble steps of the Ministry of Magic. Navigating the narrow hallways, they finally arrived in the dungeon courtroom. Harry remembered this room from Professor Dumbledore's Pensieve, and shivered. He spotted the Weasley family immediately, with their sea of red hair. Hermione sat next to Ron, and next to her was–Viktor Krum? Hermione waved at Harry, and he walked over to them. 

"Hi, Harry," Hermione said quietly. "We saved you a seat, right between me and Ron. We just thought–well, that we would be nearby to give you support–for whatever happens." Tears began to stream down Hermione's face.

"It's ok, Hermy-own-ninny," Viktor said, as he put his arm around her shoulders. Ron looked murderous, and carefully turned his eyes away, towards the entrance.

"Hey, it's Snape," Ron said. "And who is that with him?"

Professor Snape entered the courtroom with an astonishingly beautiful woman. Heads turned as he took her elbow and steered her to a seat near the front of the room. As they passed, Ron hissed, "Why would a woman like that be with a person like him?"

"I do not know why they are together, but I know who she is," Viktor offered.

"Who?" asked Harry and Ron simultaneously. Hermione rolled her eyes.

"Countess Isabelle Remizov. The most famous ballet dancer in the world. I had no idea she was a witch, although I should have guessed, considering who she is married to," Viktor said. "Her husband is Count Sergei Remizov. His 'business' is running the world's largest ballet company, but I do not think that is what occupies his time."

"Then what does?" Hermione asked.

"Let me tell you this way. Karkaroff and Remizov were best friends. The rumors were that Remizov was the leader of a group of wizards allied to the Dark Lord, awaiting his return," Viktor whispered.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione gasped. "And that's his wife?" Ron asked nervously. "Are you sure?"

"Positive," Viktor replied.

Harry tuned out Ron, Hermione, and Viktor's conversation, focusing on the pair seated four rows ahead of him. His eyes narrowed as he watched them engrossed in conversation. Hadn't Mrs. Figg said that a faculty member turned Sirius in? Harry remembered the hateful handshake between Professor Snape and Sirius last week. Snape had an old grudge against Sirius, and Harry wouldn't put it past him to turn Sirius in to the Ministry. In fact, Snape tried to have Sirius returned to Azkaban last year, but he escaped. Harry's heart filled with anger as he vowed to do whatever it took to make sure Snape didn't win...


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note: **So I decided to update a litte earlier than planned, owing to my master plan of transferring all my files onto ff.net to get away from the censoring!HP boards. This chapter's a bit of a long one, & probably the only place I've ever really used all that legal training.

As per regular, the Review button is a nifty feature...

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**Chapter 2**

Isabelle shifted uncomfortably in her seat. "What are we doing here?" she asked.

"You'll see in just a minute." Severus wouldn't meet her eyes.

The door in the front of the courtroom opened, and the jury walked over to the chambers, taking their seats. An elderly wizard climbed up to the judge's bench, and a silence fell over the crowd. Professor Dumbledore walked into the room, followed by Remus Lupin and Sirius Black.

Isabelle gasped for air. She knew that he couldn't see her, but she could plainly make out the pain etched on his face. He was sitting right in front of her, she thought, and stretched out her hand towards him. A second before her hand landed on his robe, Severus jerked her hand back to her lap.

"You know it's no use," he hissed.

"Why?" Isabelle quietly asked. "Why bring me here, now?"

Isabelle was cut off by a booming voice. "This Court is now in session. The Court will now hear the Ministry of Magic v. Sirius Black. Mr. Black, you have been charged with the crime of conspiracy to commit the murders of James and Lily Potter. How do you plead?"

"Not guilty," came his reply.

"Very well, we will proceed," the judge said. "The Ministry may present its case now."

A tall, thin wizard approached a podium and laid out the Ministry's case against Sirius. The wizard briefly detailed the events of the night Harry's parents had died, and how Sirius had escaped from prison. Isabelle could see several of the jury members nodding in agreement with the wizard's statements. Her heart sank. Finally, the wizard finished his argument, and sat down.

"Thank you," said the judge. "The defense may proceed."

Professor Dumbledore stood and walked to the podium. "Thank you," he said. "The defense would like to call Hermione Granger to the stand." A small, skinny witch walked to the front of the room, and sat down in the witness chair.

"Miss Granger, would you please tell the Court about the night that Scabbers ran away?" Professor Dumbledore asked.

She took a deep breath, and launched into the story of how she, Ron, and Harry witnessed Ron's pet rat, Scabbers, turn into Peter Pettigrew before their eyes. And how he had confessed to being the Potters' secret keeper before escaping into the Forbidden Forest. Isabelle listened, enraptured, until Hermione was finally finished with her testimony.

"Thank you Hermione," Professor Dumbledore said. "You may sit down now. The defense would now like to call Ron Weasley to the stand."

Ron Weasley was a tall, freckle-faced boy with flaming red hair. He sat down rather nervously, Isabelle noted.

Professor Dumbledore smiled reassuringly. "I only have one question for you, Ron. Is what Hermione just said the truth?"

"Yes, sir, it is," Ron confidently stated.

"Thank you. You may sit down now," Professor Dumbledore continued. "The defense would now like to call Harry Potter to the stand."

Isabelle's heart lept into her throat. The young man sitting in the witness' chair was the living image of James Potter. Severus squeezed her arm as she blinked back tears.

"Harry, I also ask you: did Hermione tell the truth just now?"

"Yes, sir," Harry replied. He even sounded like James.

"I have a few more questions for you, and I need for you to answer them, even if they sound odd, ok?"

"Ok."

"Harry, who were your parents?"

"James and Lily Potter."

"Did your mother have any siblings?"

"Yes," Harry answered. "I have an Aunt Petunia. She is three years older than my mother."

"Does she have any more siblings?"

"No," said Harry.

"Did your father have any siblings?" Professor Dumbledore continued.

"No. I do not have any relatives on my father's side," Harry replied.

Isabelle stiffened in shocked surprise, as a loud murmur erupted in the courtroom. The judge pounded his gavel onto the desk. "Order! Order!" he shouted.

"Thank you, Harry. That is all." Harry sat back down, as Professor Dumbledore began to speak. "Ladies and gentlemen, that line of questioning may have seemed odd, but I hope that it will make sense shortly. When Ministry officials were cleaning old, outdated records, a wizard came across this letter, and gave it to me a week ago. It is an old letter, but I think the author's statements have particular meaning now. And, there is no way that this letter could have influenced any of today's testimony, because no one has told Harry about the author. I will read the letter now."

"Objection!" screamed the wizard on the opposing side.

"On what grounds?" asked the judge.

"Hearsay," said the wizard. "How do we know that this letter writer knew what he was talking about?"

"She," replied Dumbledore. "She is believable because she will tell you that this is her dying declaration, which makes it acceptable evidence."

"That is the evidence rule," the judge reminded the wizard. "Objection overruled."

"Objection!" said the wizard again.

"Now what?" asked the judge.

"Dying declaration? You-know-who attacked the Potters suddenly. How could Lily Potter have had time to write a dying declaration?"

It was a ping-pong match. All eyes darted from the wizard, to the judge, to Dumbledore, and back again. Everyone held their breath for Dumbledore's response.

"I remind the Court and everyone here that the Potters were not the only victims that night," he said in a quiet voice.

"Well, this is true, but how do we know that it is authentic?" the wizard continued.

The judge banged his hand on the podium. "Enough! There is an easier way to discover this letter's author than to debate about it all day. Professor, please perform the spell that allows a letter to speak for itself, in the author's own voice. This spell cannot be fooled by Dark Magic. Objection overruled."

Professor Dumbledore took an old, yellow envelope out of his robes, and carefully removed its contents. He laid the pieces of paper on the podium and muttered an incantation. The paper began to glow, and a young woman's voice began to speak.

_To whom it may concern, _

_Because of today's dark times, I feel that it is necessary to write down all that has happened to my family. Our lives are in danger, so here is what happened to us, in case we are all gone and someone needs answers. Recent events may seem unbelievable to some people, so let me introduce myself and tell you about my wonderful family first, just to prove that I know what I'm talking about. If you do know about our family, please excuse the history lesson. _

_I am Isabelle Evans, and was a friendless orphan, pawned off on my sister Lily by my other sister Petunia eight years ago. It was the best thing that has ever happened in my life. That day, my sister arrived with the best family a girl could ever have–James Potter, his twin sister Gina, and their friends Remus Lupin and Sirius Black. _

_When I was nine, Lily married James. It took a great deal of scheming on my part, but I finally managed to get Gina to marry Sirius when I was twelve. Four years of endless flirtation–it about drove me batty. Now, if I could only get Remus to settle down–I sort of doubt it though–I truly believe he's the playboy of the wizarding world. _

_Those were the good times. Because I was isolated in a childish bubble, I was oblivious to the Dark Lord's rise, and was caught by surprise when the bad times came. James and Sirius worked increasingly long hours, leaving Lily and Gina awake for many sleepless nights. Holidays were increasingly tense, and I was almost a little glad to return to Hogwarts for my fourth year. _

_Christmas came, though, and the holidays were very bright–because we had a great deal to be happy for. Gina and Lily were both pregnant, and you would not believe the fuss that Sirius and James made over them. I was heartbroken to return to school, but Gina and Lily were both due in July, so I knew that I would be home in time for the births. _

_Last May 13, I received an emergency owl to come home immediately. I managed to arrive by late evening, and it was a day I'll never forget. The day before, Gina had been walking, and felt an incredible pain. The pain turned into premature labor. The delivery went horribly wrong, and there was little the doctor could do for her, except keep her comfortable and hope for a miracle. The miracle never came, and Gina left us two days later, May 15. Little Grace fought on, though, inspiring all of us to try to muddle through, somehow. _

_I think everyone was overjoyed when Lily safely delivered Harry. With a heavy heart, I boarded the train for school in the fall. _

_The bad times grew progressively worse. The Dark Lord grew stronger, still, and rumors began to circulate that the Dark Lord had targeted James, Lily, and Harry. James, Lily, and Sirius grew increasingly concerned, and developed a plan to help ensure our safety. James, Lily, and Harry would move into a new home in Godric's Hollow, while Sirius, Grace, and I moved to Sheffield ,permanently abandoning my childhood home in Dover. I hugged Lily goodbye at the train platform this summer, and haven't seen her since, because it is too dangerous. _

_Two days ago, I woke up in the middle of the night, and was thirsty, so I began walking down the stairs. I stopped midway down, though, when I heard two voices–Sirius' and Peter Pettigrew's. They were so involved in their conversation that they didn't even notice when I crept downstairs and hid in a shadow. Sirius told Peter that the Dark Lord was after James, Lily, and Harry, so they needed a secret keeper. Sirius said that it would be too obvious to make him the secret keeper, so he asked Peter to do it. Peter agreed, and they performed the spell. When Sirius turned to open the door, Peter pushed up his left sleeve slightly and grinned. The Dark Mark was on his arm. _

_After Peter left, I jumped out of the shadow and told Sirius what I had seen. He told me to stay put with Grace, and tore out of the door chasing Peter. He has not come home, and I am very worried. _

_I see a greenish glow in the distance, which I can only guess is Death Eaters, coming towards the house. The glow is from all sides. I have no hope of taking Grace and making a run for it, so I will stay and fight. Whoever gets this letter, please forgive the next few lines, because I am not sure what will happen, so there are some things that I need to say if the worst does come true. _

_Lily–You are my sister, mother and friend. I can never thank you enough for everything that you've done for me. Harry is so lucky to have you for a mother. I love you, sis. _

_James–I'm sorry that you never got to see me play Chaser next year on the Griffindor house Quiddich team. I'll never forget all of the hours that you practiced with me. And buy a brush, you mop. _

_Harry–I know you favor your father, but you have the Evans eyes. Never forget that. Oh, and James' right side is weak on the Quiddich pitch because he has a bit of astigmatism. Always aim a quaffle for the right side. Oh, and avoid your Aunt Petunia if possible. She's horrible and gives bad presents. _

_Remus–I can never thank you enough for the Marauder's Map, my friend. I am proud to say that it came in handy last term. I won't tell you details, but it involves a certain Ravenclaw prefect, and was worth the month's worth of detention I got when Filch caught me. The git couldn't read the map, but stuck it in a file drawer named Confiscated and Highly Dangerous. Hint, hint, Harry and Grace. _

_Grace–I am truly sorry that you never met your mother. You do have the Potter hair, though, I'm afraid to say (I'm brushing it right now). Keep your father in line, ok? He's an absolute pushover if you pout. Pout often, and do me proud. _

_Sirius–Never blame yourself for leaving me and Grace alone. Never. No matter what happens, you have to take care of yourself and do what makes you happy. If you are ever sad, or lonely, remember when I was scared to go to Hogwarts for the first time and you told me about our star. Now, I'll be there, waiting for you, with Gina, where nothing's sad, and no one cries. We'll be smiling down at you, so you have to smile back. It's only fair. And remember that just because it's daylight doesn't mean that the star isn't there. We'll always be there when you need us. _

_I hear something at the door, so I have to go. _

_All my love,  
Isabelle_

There was not a dry eye in the courtroom. Hermione buried her head in Viktor's shoulder, sobbing. Professor McGonagall had to remove her spectacles, and blew her nose loudly with a lace handkerchief. Harry sat in shocked, saddened disbelief. Why hadn't Sirius told him the truth–why hadn't anyone told him the truth?

He looked up at his godfather. Sirius' head was buried underneath his arms, and he was shaking uncontrollably. Beside him, Remus Lupin sat in shock, unblinking. Hearing Isabelle's voice made the past come to life, and sometimes the past was too much to bear.

Professor Dumbledore cleared his throat, straightened up, and walked to the podium. "We all know, of course, that the worst did happen. Death eaters broke into the house, and Isabelle and Grace have not been seen since," Dumbledore continued quietly. "Today's testimony clearly shows that Sirius Black is not guilty of anything but trust. His friend Peter Pettigrew betrayed him. Because of that betrayal, James and Lily Potter died that horrible night. Witches and wizards of the jury, please do not send the wrong man to prison. Thank you."

The judge wiped away his own tears, and turned to the jury. "You've heard the evidence, and now it is time to decide. All witches and wizards who vote to convict Sirius Black for conspiracy to commit the murders of James and Lily Potter, please raise your hands."

The jury members looked at each other. No one raised a hand. "Alright, all witches and wizards who vote to release Sirius Black with a full pardon, and official apology for time served, please raise your hands."

Twelve hands immediately shot up into the air. The courtroom erupted with cheers, and Ron, Harry, and Hermione jumped up, hugging each other.

"The jury has spoken. Sirius Black, this Court finds you not guilty of the crime of conspiracy to commit the murders of James and Lily Potter, and releases you with a full pardon. Mr. Black, nothing this Court can say or do can repair the events of the past, or give you back the time you served in Azkaban. All I can say is that a guardian angel helped you today, so heed her words carefully. This Court is adjourned."

Sirius could not stop shaking. He looked up, and a pair of emerald green eyes were staring into his, begging for answers.

"I'm so sorry, Harry," Sirius managed to say. "I just couldn't find the right time or place to tell you. I started to, so many times, but I didn't want to add to what you were already going through."

Harry wrapped his arms around Sirius' shaking frame. He had just realized something. "Wait a minute," Harry said. He stood back and looked at Sirius. "My father had a sister, right?"

Sirius nodded.

"And you married her, right?"

Sirius nodded again.

"So, that makes you my uncle, doesn't it?"

Another nod.

"So, this means that I actually have some living family that's not a Dursley?" Harry exclaimed. "And I never have to go back with them?"

"Yep, that's what it means." Sirius thought for a second. "You know, that's the same exact look Isabelle had on her face when she realized that she never had to live with them again, either." His features twisted in a grin. "Have you ever seen this spot on their front stoop, that always has grime on it? That your Aunt Petunia can never get clean?"

"Yeah, actually. She's scrubbing at it at least once or twice a week. Why?" Harry asked.

"Isabelle had to go to Petunia's for a weekend once, so she talked me into hexing the front stoop to stay dirty. Isabelle would go the bedroom window, and watch Petunia scrub, and laugh hysterically. When I picked her up, I just conveniently forgot to un-hex it." His face fell. "I never should have left her that night with Grace."

"Sirius, you didn't know," Remus said in a low voice. He placed his hand on Sirius' shoulder. "Maybe we can start picking up the pieces, and move on now. Speaking of moving, you're free to stay at my place, if you want to."

Sirius sighed and put his head in his hands. "Why, on earth, would a respectable widower like me want to live with the playboy of the wizarding world?"

Sirius and Harry cracked up laughing. Remus did not look amused, and was thinking of a comeback when Professor Dumbledore walked up to them.

"Hello, Harry. I'm sorry that you had to hear about your family this way, but keeping the letter a secret was Sirius' only chance at freedom," Professor Dumbledore said.

"I understand," Harry replied, but he didn't know if he would ever really understand his family at all. It seemed as if there was always a secret, waiting to be discovered.

"Harry, as you know, Sirius is your godfather, and now is your guardian. However, I would like for you to return with Mrs. Figg for the remainder of this week. Then, after staying with the Dursleys for as little time as necessary, the Weasleys will pick you up. Sirius will pick you up from there for the remainder of the holidays. I'm afraid I need him for a month," Dumbledore explained.

"Yes, Professor Dumbledore," Harry said. He hugged Sirius goodbye, and walked to the back of the courtroom where Mrs. Figg, the Weasleys, Hermione, and Viktor were waiting. "Bye!" he shouted, as he disappeared from view.

Sirius started at his retreating form, and turned to Remus. "Do you think he's going to be ok?" he asked.

"Sometimes children are the pillars of strength for the adults," Dumbledore replied. "If it is alright, I would like for you to come to dinner tonight at six o'clock, at Hogwarts. There is much we need to prepare for, in light of recent events."

No one seemed to notice a tall blonde witch in blue robes being led out of the courtroom by Severus Snape, crying.

-----

The Weasleys, followed by Harry, Hermione, Viktor, and Mrs. Figg, walked into the Leaky Cauldron for some strong tea. Putting several tables together, they sat down, stirred their tea, and sat silently. No one knew what to say. For once, even Fred and George sat quietly, their hands in their laps. 

After about five minutes, Harry cleared his throat, and turned to Mrs. Figg, swallowing hard. He desperately wanted to know the real truth about his family, but didn't quite know how to ask, or even if she would know the answers. Finally, he said in a small voice, "Did you know about my aunts?"

Mrs. Figg nodded. "Would you like to hear about them?"

"Yes," he replied.

"Well," she began, "you know now that your father had a twin, Gina. That's what everyone called her, but her name was Regina. Regina Victoria. She was born five minutes before your father, and never let him forget it. When they first went to Hogwarts, Gina met your mother Lily on the train, and they became inseparable. Gina was absolutely beautiful, with raven-black hair and blue eyes. The guys were all nuts for her, but your father beat up practically any guy that looked her way."

Ginny sighed. "I feel her pain," she mumbled.

"Your aunt Isabelle idolized Gina. Isabelle was ten years younger than Lily, so Lily and Gina were like her second mothers. Lily was the authority figure, and Gina spoiled her. Isabelle was the apple of everyone's eye–no one could help but adore her. Sirius, especially. She could do no wrong in his eyes. James', either, for that matter. She was one loved little girl."

"What did she look like?" Harry asked. "Did she look like my mother, or like my Aunt Petunia?" Harry wrinkled her nose, picturing Aunt Petunia's horse-like face.

Mrs. Figg laughed. "Neither. Isabelle had a look all her own. She, Lily, and you all have the same emerald-green eyes, but the similarities end there. Isabelle was always tall and thin, with waist-length blonde hair. She was really starting to come into her own, before..." Her voice trailed off.

Mr. Weasley stirred his tea thoughtfully. "You know what? There has always been something about that night that bothers me."

"What's that?" Mrs. Figg asked.

"Well," Mr. Weasley said, "Death Eaters were ruthless, heartless killers–there is no doubt about that. But, the way they attacked the Black house–it was so odd."

"Why?" inquired Hermione.

"Usually, when a Death Eater murdered in cold blood, he left the body and home as intact as possible. That was part of the terror–knowing that you were going to find your loved ones exactly as you left them, but dead. When the Death Eaters attacked the Black house, they blew the house sky high. The Ministry concluded that the Death Eaters did that because they knew of You-Know-Who's demise, and were trying to dispose of any evidence that would incriminate them. But, since Sirius Black is innocent, that theory doesn't make any sense." Mr. Weasley paused, and shook his head vigorously. "Sorry," he said apologetically, "I'm just thinking out loud. Well, it's beginning to get late, and we really should head home. Harry, we'll see you soon, ok?"

Harry nodded. He couldn't wait to leave the Dursleys and go to the Burrow. The Weasleys all got up, threw some Floo powder in the fireplace, and disappeared.

Hermione stood. "Well, it's almost time to meet my parents. I'm going to Bulgaria with Viktor for a couple of weeks, but I'll be at the Burrow when you get there. Send me an owl if you need me, ok?" Hermione hugged Harry and walked out with Viktor, holding hands. Harry could only imagine the look on Ron's face.

-----

Isabelle walked out of the courtroom, through Diagon Alley, and into Muggle London. Tears blinded her face, as she kept walking, faster, until she was in a full run. Not caring about how odd she looked in her robes, she kept running, away from the past, and away from what she had just seen. She finally stopped on the Tower Bridge, far above the Thames River, and put her head in her hands. Ten minutes later, Severus Snape spotted her on the bridge, and walked up to her. 

"Isabelle," he began.

"Don't," she spat. "I don't want to hear anything you have to say." She looked away from him, focusing on the river below.

"Do you think I wanted to bring you here? No. I didn't. I wish I hadn't."

"Then why did you?"

"Because you have a choice now. From time to time, I have updated Dumbledore on how you are doing, and he knows that you have a degree in teaching, although you insisted on becoming a ballet dancer. He wants you to come to Hogwarts to teach Muggle Studies, and to teach Harry wandless magic."

"You can do that. You taught me."

"Harry will not listen to anything I have to say. Sirius has seen to that."

"I am sure that your attitude towards him did more to influence his dislike of you, than anything Sirius could have said. Besides, how could wandless magic possibly benefit him? Most consider it a Dark Art, so it is pretty pointless to learn, because it is almost never used."

"Technically, it is not a Dark Art, and there is a very good reason Harry needs to know it."

"And what is that?"

"Voldemort."

Isabelle's brow furrowed. "Voldemort? He's gone, Severus. Harry killed him."

"No, Isabelle. Harry almost killed him, but didn't. Voldemort has been regaining strength, and has returned to his full power."

"So Sergei was right, this whole time."

"Yes."

Isabelle took a deep breath, and slowly exhaled. "Ok, but I still do not understand the connection between Voldemort and a need to teach Harry wandless magic."

"Harry's wand and Voldemort's share cores."

"Like ours do. Or did, rather." She sighed.

"Yes, and you and I are the only people Dumbledore knows who can perform wandless magic who are not Dark wizards."

"Um, isn't that a matter of perspective? I mean, you were a Death Eater, and I was married to one," she reminded him.

"Well, we're all he's got to work with, so I guess we'll do," he said. "Besides, everyone has made mistakes. Even though I told you not to marry him."

"How many times do we have to go through this?"

"Until you tell me the real truth. For two years now, you have always refused to tell me what really happened."

"The truth? The truth is that I was sick and tired of being taken care of and bossed around. Ever since I was little, I have been passed around from person to person. I wanted some sort of stability, a normal life. So, when I joined the ballet and met Sergei, I thought he was charming and attractive. We became friends. He saw me with my wand once backstage, fixing a rip in my costume. After the show, at the cast party, he took me aside and asked me about the wand, because he said that he had never met a real witch before. So, I told him the made-up story about being a pure-blood witch who can trace her bloodlines to some of the most influential families in Virginia. Which, as we both know, is the capital of America's wizarding world. Then, you started lecturing me about not seeing him, or trusting men that I meet. By that time, I was so sick and tired of your lectures, that when he asked me to elope with him, I did. I honestly thought he was a Muggle, and that I was saying goodbye to the wizarding world. Then, I saw a certain tattoo on his left arm our wedding night, and knew that I had been tricked. He married me because he was obsessed with two things–making money and having an heir. I was his best dancer, so if we were married, I would stay with the troupe and make him more money. And, since I was a pure-blood wizard, or so he thought, I could produce him a pure-blood heir. But, I had too much pride to come to you for help, because you warned me, so I was trapped. Well, until you found out anyway, and helped me leave him. Anyway, I betrayed my family, and all that they stood for. And died for. They would never forgive me."

"Making a poor choice is not betrayal, Isabelle. Although neither Dumbledore nor your family knows about your marriage, I do not think they would hold it against you."

"Ok. Let me get this straight. Dumbledore doesn't think that Harry will take instructions from you, but he thinks that Harry will listen to the ex-wife of a Death Eater? Who he has no reason to trust?"

"No, Dumbledore believes that Harry will listen, and trust, his Aunt Isabelle."

Isabelle paled and stared at Severus. "What?"

"Dumbledore believes that it is time for you and Grace to come out of hiding."

"Hiding? Everyone thinks that we are dead. Dead is not hiding."

"Yes, that is your choice."

"That's your idea of a birthday present? To choose whether or not to come back from the dead? Harry didn't even know I existed until today. Did you see how traumatic the trial was for him? How can I possibly decide whether having an aunt and cousin come back from the dead would help him, or hurt him worse? And Grace–she has a life somewhere. How would finding out about her family affect her? This is not just about me, and what I want. It is about what would be best for Harry and Grace."

"And what do you want?"

"You know what I want," she replied softly. "I want my family back."

"Even though Sergei would find out that you are not pure-blood Isabelle Randolph from Virginia? You embarrassed him when you left. I cannot imagine his rage when he discovers that he really married muggle-born Isabelle Evans, aunt of the boy who defeated the Dark Lord."

"I am not ashamed of my family. I only hope that they will not be ashamed of me."

"So, you choose to rejoin the land of the living?"

"No. As the Americans say, I choose to pass the buck."

"Meaning?"

"Meaning that I saw the pain it caused Sirius, Remus, and Harry to hear my letter. I don't know what is best for Harry or Grace, but Sirius does. He knows Harry, and he is Grace's father. The choice should be his, not mine."

"I can't believe how loyal you are to Sirius after all this time."

"Believe it. As for Dumbledore's request, I will help Harry with his wandless magic, no matter what Sirius chooses. I do not want my nephew facing Lord Voldemort unprepared. I will teach at Hogwarts, in disguise, if need be. I will be the former Countess Remizov for the rest of my life, if it would help Harry."

"Alright, as you wish," Severus said. "In that case, we need to hurry to catch the Hogwarts Express. Dinner is as six o'clock, and it will be the best time to bring this up to Sirius. I want to get it over with."

Isabelle and Severus silently made their way to King's Cross Station, each lost in thought. Platform 9 3/4 was empty, as they climbed into the train. So was the train, except for two wizards three cars back–Remus Lupin and Sirius Black. When the train pulled into the empty Hogsmeade station, the four stepped off the train at the same time. Severus did not want to deal with Sirius until absolutely necessary, so he steered Isabelle into the heart of the town for some shopping.

"Who on earth is Snape with?" Sirius asked.

"Oh," Remus said, "she is the famous dancer, the Countess Remizov. She was with him at the trial, but I guess you were too preoccupied to notice."

"To say the least."

"I heard she is quite talented, not that it matters. Her husband runs the ballet company, so I guess she gets whatever parts that she wants."

"Remizov...I've heard that name before. In Azkaban, maybe?"

"That would not surprise me. For the past few years, I've heard rumors that the Remizov family is allied with the Dark Lord."

"Wonder why she's with Snape, then?"

"Who knows."

-----  


  
  
Sirius closed his eyes and leaned against the wall of the Astronomy tower. It had been a long, painful day, and he needed to be alone before heading to dinner. Isabelle's voice kept playing over and over in his head, reminding him of that terrible night. If only he had realized that he, too, was one of Voldemort's targets, if only he had gotten home in time to save Isabelle and Grace, he thought. Grace would be fifteen years old now. She and Harry would have been playmates, and friends. Tears streamed down his face as he mourned his lost family. He looked up at the sky, remembering Isabelle's last words. 

If you ever forget to smile, or get lonely, remember when I was scared to go to Hogwarts for the first time and you told me about our star. How could he forget? Isabelle had always been a bit of a pet, ever since the first time they met, when she was eight years old. He was the one she ran to when she had a skinned knee, or was afraid. He became her hero when he scared the boogie man in the closet away, because he was an Auror, and that's what Aurors do–make bad things go away. He remembered finding her in her hidden fort the night before she was supposed to go to Hogwarts, crying.

_"__What's wrong?" he had asked her. _

_"__I'm scared to go to school," she had replied. "What if I don't like it there? What if I'm lonely? I'll miss you so much, that I'm not sure if I can bear it!" _

_"__Well, you know what? Look up at the sky. Do you see that star up there?" Sirius pointed. _

_"__Yes," Isabelle sniffled. _

_"__You see, that star is the brightest in the sky, because it's the closest to earth. And, I happen to be named after that star. So, whenever you get sad or lonely, look up at the sky, and remember that I'm always close to you, just like the star, even if I seem far away. And just because it's daylight doesn't mean that the star isn't there. I'll always be there when you need me," Sirius told her. _

_She looked at him adoringly. Her hero. _

Some hero, he thought. He couldn't save Gina, or James, or Lily, or Isabelle, or Grace, or himself, for that matter. He was so lost in his thoughts that he barely noticed that he was no longer alone.

A woman was standing at the opposite end of the tower, gazing into the sky, as if looking for something. She looked like an angel in the moonlight, with the pale light highlighting her blonde hair like a halo, framing an exquisite face. Her dark blue robes blended perfectly into the night sky. She was the most beautiful person Sirius had ever seen.

She stood there, alone, for several minutes. Just as Sirius decided to speak to her, another figure entered the tower. Severus Snape. He was the last person Sirius wanted to speak to, so he quietly hid himself in a shadow.

"Countess, ready for dinner?" he asked her.

She groaned. "Ugh. Must you really call me that?" she drawled.

She must be the Countess Remizov that Snape was with earlier, he thought. And what kind of accent is that? Her voice was enchanting–smooth as honey, with just a hint of sassiness.

"Of course I have to call you Countess. It's the only name you can rightfully claim, given your choices," he said meaningfully.

She wrinkled her nose. "Fine, Professor," she said formally.

They both laughed. "Seriously, dinner's ready," Snape said. "Perhaps your days as a Countess are at an end. We will see, won't we?"

"Yes, we will," she replied nervously. They walked out of the tower, chatting.

Sirius stepped out of the shadow. What was that all about? he puzzled.


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note: **Wow, I forgot how funny I find this chapter...anyhoo...Am busily uploading & fighting the urge to be immature & beg for reviews. Which was a backhanded way of begging for reviews. Ok, I'm shameless; I admit it.

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**Chapter 3**

Isabelle and Severus Snape walked into the dining room. She hoped that it wasn't too obvious that her knees were shaking. She was excited, but petrified, at the prospect of talking to her long-lost family for the first time in fourteen years. The only thing that would make dinner more enjoyable is if her family recognized her for who she really was.

The night air was much chillier than she remembered, and certainly much colder than Southern summer nights, so Isabelle walked to the fire to warm herself up while the other dinner guests arrived.

Albus Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall walked in, talking. Snape took her elbow, steering her towards the two professors.

"Professors Dumbledore, McGonagall, I would like to introduce you to the Countess Remizov. She will be joining us for dinner tonight, if you do not mind," Professor Snape said.

Both professors raised an eyebrow at the Remizov name. Seeing hesitation, Isabelle bowed in a formal fashion, playing the part of the perfect countess. "It is my pleasure to meet you," she said graciously.

"And you, Countess. Please, join us tonight," Professor Dumbledore said. Professor McGonagall simply nodded, and took her seat at the table.

Isabelle flushed, and sat down beside Severus. Maybe this was the wrong choice, after all. She bit her lip.

A minute later, Remus Lupin walked in, followed by Sirius Black. They quietly took their seats, giving Snape evil looks. Isabelle couldn't take her eyes off them. Remus hardly looked different at all–a little more gray, but otherwise, the same. It was Sirius who shocked her. She had never noticed that he was extremely handsome before, or rather, he would be if he did something with his hair and gained a little weight. He was her childhood buddy; it had never occurred to her that he was a man. She became quite embarrassed at this realization and stared down at her plate.

"Countess Remizov, is it? I hear that you are quite an excellent dancer."

Isabelle's head jerked up. Oh, no, Sirius spoke to her. What was she supposed to say? Her mind drew a total blank, as her eyes got the deer in the headlights look. Say something, anything, Isabelle! she thought madly. "Um, yes, I dance alright, I suppose."

Remus' eyebrows knitted. "If you don't mind my asking, what kind of accent do you have? It's certainly not Eastern European."

"No, it's not. Actually, it's an American accent, Southern to be specific. I went to high school and college in Virginia, and the accent rubbed off on me," she replied.

"Countess, how is your husband these days?" Professor McGonagall inquired with narrowed eyes.

"Ex-husband," Isabelle said quietly. "And I assume he is as evil as when I left him." She felt four surprised pairs of eyes on her, so she took a deep breath, and continued. "To make an extremely long story short, I left him, and went back home to Virginia to teach at the Richmond Ballet. As far as I know, he doesn't know where I am, and I prefer it that way."

Her eyes became hard, deadened. Remus' heart went out to this beautiful young witch who was obviously experienced more pain than they could possibly imagine. She looked at Snape, and he nodded. Her eyes lost a bit of their deadened look, and she continued.

"However, I did not come here tonight to discuss my love life. Because of my, um, connections, I have some information that I would like to share with you about the night that the Potters died, specifically about Isabelle Evans and Grace Black. I understand, though, if the subject is too painful and you do not wish to discuss it."

Sirius swallowed, and chose his words carefully. "Countess, I have thought of hardly anything else for fourteen years than that night. If there is anything you could say, to bring some sort of closure, by all means, continue."

"As you know, the Dark Lord sent Death Eaters to your house in Sheffield to kill you, Isabelle, and Grace while he personally went to the Potter house. But, before the Death Eaters could reach the house, word of the Dark Lord's demise reached them, and they ran away, scared, abandoning their plan. All except for one Death Eater, who was the person Isabelle heard at the door at the end of her letter. He broke into the house, and found Isabelle with Grace in the nursery." Sirius grew increasingly pale. "She attacked him, but was no match for the much older wizard, and he quickly disarmed her. The Death Eater knew that although the others had gone for now, they would almost certainly be back later. Without you around," nodding at Sirius, "he knew that the children had virtually no chance of survival, and took pity on them. So, he forced Isabelle to pack some belongings for her and Grace, and they left. To hide the fact that there were no dead bodies, the Death Eater exploded the house and illuminated the Dark Mark over the rubble."

"What are you trying to say!" Sirius yelled. "I saw it–I saw the house explode in front of my eyes. No one has ever seen or heard from either Isabelle or Grace again. They are gone. This is enough for me, Countess, and your twisted sense of humor. It has been an extremely difficult day. Please excuse me." He rose from the table, and turned to walk out of the door.

"Wait," Albus Dumbledore commanded. Sirius stopped midstride. "Although, like yourself, I am not sure where Countess Remizov obtained her information, I do know that it is the truth."

"What?" Sirius said, thunderstruck. "Prove it then. Name the Death Eater." He crossed his arms against his chest, his facial expression a combination of disbelief, anger, and hope.

Severus Snape stood and looked Sirius squarely in the eye. "The nursery was upstairs, second room on the left, and was painted a pale yellow."

Sirius blanched. There was no way he could have known that, unless? Could this be true? He weakly sat back down in his chair.

"Answer me one question, Snape," Sirius choked, "Are Isabelle and Grace alive, or dead?"

"Very much alive," Snape answered.

"How?" was all Sirius could reply. His mind told him not to believe Snape's words, but his heart needed to hear the answers to his questions.

"I took the children that night to Hogwarts, where I knew they would be safe. Despite any feelings I had for you, I did not want the girls to die a senseless death. I had planned to return them to you the following morning, but then you were arrested and taken to Azkaban. Dumbledore and I did not quite know what to do, because all our intelligence indicated that you were the Potters' secret keeper. What could we do with the children? Isabelle was shattered beyond repair. Grace faced a life as an outcast because her father was the most notorious criminal in the wizarding world. We could only find one solution–to go along with the Ministry's assumption that they were dead."

"We decided that the best thing to do for both of them was to give them a fresh start, with a new identity," Dumbledore explained. "We took Grace, and placed her in foster care, with very loving parents. Severus took Isabelle to another country, where he looked after her for three years before she went away to Muggle college, and he took his position at Hogwarts. To do this, we needed to trick everyone's mind into not seeing either girl's true identity, which is extremely old magic. So, even if Isabelle or Grace was staring you straight in the eye, you would never recognize either one of them."

"However," Snape said, "We altered the spell to allow for the possibility that people's attitudes could change about the Black family, by entrusting the ability to reverse the spell in a secret keeper. Only the secret keeper can reverse the spell, to give you your family back."

Sirius looked at Dumbledore, tears streaming down his face. "How do I find this secret keeper?"

Dumbledore looked at Snape. Snape sighed. "I know the girls are alive, Sirius, because I am the secret keeper. I alone can see them as who they are, although I only speak to Isabelle. Grace has no idea whatsoever of who she really is, and no one can see the obvious family resemblance between the two of you, except me. So, this is your choice, Sirius," he said, looking at him. "You can reverse the spell for just Isabelle, and leave Grace's life intact as it is. You could reverse the spell for both of them, one of them, or neither of them."

So that's it, Sirius thought. That's his sweet revenge–holding my family's future in his grimy hands. He could walk away; at least he had Harry. Walking away wouldn't hurt anyone, wouldn't disrupt a single thing. But, he knew that he would look for his daughter's face in every girl he saw who was Harry's age. That was the poison on the knife. To know that his own daughter could be looking at him, talking to him, and he would never know the difference. He would never know who her boyfriends were, walk her down the aisle, see his grandchildren. Grace would never know what an amazingly wonderful mother she had, and what Gina had sacrificed for her. Gina. What would she want him to do? What was the better choice?

Sirius swallowed and looked at Snape. "I want both of my girls back," he said, praying that he was making the right decision. He put his head in his hands, barely hearing Snape mutter several incantations. Professor McGonagall gasped loudly, and Remus poked him sharply in the side. Sirius looked up, and blinked.

A pair of emerald green eyes stared into his, much like Harry's did earlier that day. In fact, exactly like Harry's eyes. He tilted his head to one side, not sure of what he was seeing. Countess Remizov had Harry's eyes. The Evans eyes. "Isabelle?" he said hesitatingly.

She nodded, tears pouring down her face. Sirius jumped up, quickly followed by Remus, and engulfed her in a wild, tear-filled hug. Sirius could not believe that he did not recognize Isabelle before now. Her eyes, the way she styled her hair like Gina, the necklace he had given her for her sixteenth birthday; why, she looked almost identical to when he last saw her. Except for the deadened, hard look in her eyes.

He took her by the shoulders, and looked her squarely in her eyes. "Does Count Remizov know who you really are, Isabelle?" he asked seriously.

She shook her head no. "There was no way he could have. I didn't know he was a Death Eater," she sobbed. "I'm so sorry. I should have listened to Severus. He told me that something wasn't right, but I didn't listen." She buried her head in Sirius' shoulder.

He looked up at Snape. "Did you know, when she married him?"

"No, I did not know that Count Remizov was devoting his time to helping the Dark Lord, and I certainly didn't expect that Isabelle would foolishly run off with him," he replied.

Albus Dumbledore placed his hand on Isabelle's shoulder. "Countess," he began.

"Please," she interrupted, "Miss Evans is fine, and Isabelle is even better."

"Alright, Isabelle," he continued, with a bit of a smile, "I understand that you have a great deal of experience in the Muggle world. Because of Voldemort's return, and his fondness for torturing and killing Muggles, our ability to communicate with the Muggle world has become extremely important. Our students need to learn how to function in the Muggle world in a practical way. Would you be interested in staying here and teaching Muggle Studies?"

Severus and Sirius both gave her an identical look that told her that this arrangement was not up for debate.

"Yes, I would be interested, thank you," she said politely.

Dumbledore continued. "In order to prepare our students to fight the Dark Lord, Professor McGonagall and I have decided to expand our faculty. We are trying to recruit talented witches and wizards to team-teach subjects with our current faculty. Remus, we would be honored if you would return as the assistant to Ms. Arabella Figg, our new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher." Snape frowned. Remus Lupin nodded.

"Mr. Black, seeing as how you were one of my best, although sneakiest, students, I would appreciate your assistance in my Transfiguration class," Professor McGonagall said.

Sirius nodded, dazed. Just this morning, he was not sure whether he would be in Azkaban by the evening. And now, he was a free man, with a job, near his family. Grace. He looked at Snape. "Grace!" he exclaimed. "Who is my daughter?"

"Someone you already care for, and cares for you back," Snape said. "In fact, she helped save your life–twice. Shares her father's love of breaking rules, and ability to rarely get caught doing it."

"You don't mean..." Sirius stammered.

"I do. Your daughter Grace is Hermione Granger."

"WHAT?!?" came five voices in reply.

"Yes, can't you see the resemblance? The Potter hair, only a little lighter, Gina's face, Sirius' eyes, James' flip, know-it-all attitude? She's like having James, Gina, and Sirius all rolled into one," Snape said, rolling his eyes in obvious disdain.

Lupin smiled. "Now that I really think about it, I can honestly see the resemblance. I just never thought of it before."

Professor McGonagall shook her head in agreement. "I agree with you, Mr. Lupin. And, I knew that Hermione was adopted; she told me last term before she went home. She never said anything about it because of Harry. Hermione told me that she felt badly that, unlike Harry, she had people who loved her to take care of her. I would have never thought..."

Sirius laughed. He just laughed, almost hysterically.

"What is the matter?" Isabelle asked, concerned. She had never seen him act like this before.

"Oh, nothing," he said, in an odd voice. "Nothing at all. My only daughter, who I thought was dead for the past fourteen years, is actually in Bulgaria, with her famous international Quiddich player boyfriend, who happens to be nearly four years older than her. For a three-week visit. Why would anything be wrong?"

Lupin shook his head in amusement. "I'm sure she'll be fine," he said reassuringly.

"That's exactly what I'm afraid of," came the reply. Isabelle snickered behind his back. "And you," Sirius turned around, "what on earth were you doing with a Ravenclaw prefect that was worth a month's detention, at the tender age of fifteen?"

Isabelle became very interested in her manicure. "Hmm?" she said.

"Well," said Professor Dumbledore, "it has been an extremely eventful day, and I must confess that I am tired. There is a house on the faculty grounds that is not currently in use, if the three of you would like to use it." He nodded towards Sirius, Remus, and Isabelle. They looked at each other, and smiled. It would almost be like old times. "Minerva, could you show them the way?" Professor McGonagall nodded in reply.

Isabelle walked up to Snape, and gave him a giant hug. "Never call me Countess again," she whispered in his ear, then hurried to catch up with her family, who had already left the room.

-----

Professor McGonagall briskly walked through the castle grounds, pausing at an old iron gate. She tapped it once with her wand, and the gate opened, revealing the faculty grounds. Houses of different shapes and colors were grouped in a circle, around a brass fountain that changed shape every couple of minutes to one of the four animals in the Hogwarts crest. Sirius, Remus, and Isabelle followed her past a thatched roof cottage, French chateau, and log cabin. Professor McGonagall stopped at an American Southern-style house, walked up the stairs, and opened the door. 

"Here is your home," she told them. "It is unfurnished, for the most part, but you will receive a housing allowance tomorrow to purchase necessary items. Winky has lit a fire in the living room, and laid down pallets for tonight."

Remus and Sirius walked in, leaving Isabelle and Professor McGonagall on the front porch. Professor McGonagall cleared her throat, and said in a choked voice, "I am sorry, Isabelle, for the way I behaved earlier. I should have given you the benefit of the doubt, but I naturally assumed that because you are associated with Dark wizard, that you approve of the Dark ways. I was wrong. Welcome back, and I hope that your return will bring some peace and joy to your family."

Isabelle smiled, and hugged her former teacher. Professor McGonagall turned and walked into the thatched roof cottage. Winky, the house-elf, walked outside, nearly knocking Isabelle over.

"Excuse me, Winky?" she asked.

"Yes, Winky is a good house-elf. She lights fire for new masters."

"Yes, thank you. Would you mind bringing us some tea?"

"No, no, Winky will bring tea right away." Winky scurried down the path, making Isabelle chuckle. It had been quite a few years since she had seen a house-elf.

Isabelle walked inside the house, where three large, inviting feather pallets had been laid on the living room floor. Sirius and Remus were talking quietly, and jumped a bit when she walked in the room.

"Sorry, it's just..." Remus began.

"I know, I've had the past thirty years to accept that I'm still alive. You've only had the past thirty minutes to absorb that fact."

Remus flashed a smile at Sirius, who still looked quite dazed, and very exhausted. Winky brought in a huge tray of tea and sweets, bowed, and left.

"Would you like some tea?" Both men nodded, so Isabelle busied herself preparing three cups of strong, hot tea. Carefully, she removed a small vial of blue liquid from the inside of her robe, and opened it. She poured half of the contents in the first cup, and the other half in the second cup, leaving the third cup for herself. Isabelle had perfected the fine art of Potions making, courtesy of Snape's tutoring. This particular potion allowed a person to have a deep, restful, dreamless sleep. Sirius looked like a wreck, and Remus didn't look much better, so Isabelle hoped that the potion would give both of them the first good night's sleep either had had in ages.

"Thank you," they said, accepting their cups. Isabelle smiled, as they drank the tea quickly. They would both be out cold in five minutes. Sure enough, Remus yawned, laid down, and was asleep before Sirius even finished his cup. A minute later, Sirius was curled up in a ball, sound asleep. Isabelle swayed as she managed to walk to the third pallet before collapsing. It was barely ten o'clock, but to Isabelle's body, it was four o'clock in the morning, and definitely time for bed.

-----

Isabelle groaned as a small ray of sunshine fell across her eyes, waking her up. Unfortunately, once she was awake, she could not go back to sleep, so she sat up, stretching. Remus and Sirius were asleep, so Isabelle tiptoed past them and snuck into the kitchen. The kitchen was absolutely magnificent. The countertops were a creamy marble, which reflected the warm cherry cabinets perfectly. The center of the kitchen had a huge island with room for a sink and stove on one side, and a bar with four seats on the other. She rummaged around for a teapot, and managed to get the stove working after three unsuccessful attempts. Wizards' appliances worked quite differently from Muggle ones, and Isabelle had not been in a proper wizards' kitchen since she was sixteen years old. 

With tea in hand, she set out to explore the rest of the house. There were three large rooms on the bottom floor–the living room on the left, dining room on the right, and kitchen in the back, opening into a screened-in porch. Underneath the large stairwell, which was directly opposite from the front door, was a small bathroom. She quietly walked up the stairs to the second floor, and saw five bedroom doors. The two bedrooms on the right faced the rear of the house, so you could walk outside on top of the screened-in porch. Too tempting for children, she thought, remembering her own failed attempts to sneak out of the house at night. She yawned, and headed back to the kitchen to make a shopping list.

After checking to make sure that Remus and Sirius were still asleep, Isabelle set out for Hogsmeade. Halfway down the lane, she realized that she no money. Sighing, she turned around, and knocked on Professor McGonagall's front door.

"Yes?" she answered, looking very groggy.

"Well, um, I was going shopping, and I realized that I have no money. Well, I have money, but American dollars don't buy much in Hogsmeade. Do you know where I can pick up our housing allowance?"

Professor McGonagall yawned, turned around to her entryway table, and handed Isabelle a bulging envelope. "Isn't is a little early to be up in the morning?" she said.

"Sorry. My system is a little off, because of the time difference between here and Virginia. I woke up early, and decided to get out of the house before I woke up Sirius and Remus. If my memory serves me correctly, they are not pleasant to be around in the morning if they don't get enough sleep."

"Is any man pleasant to be around in the morning, period?"

"Good point. I think I will take my time shopping. Thanks for the money," Isabelle replied, as she headed back down the lane towards Hogsmeade.

She felt very lucky that Severus had taken her shopping yesterday afternoon. Otherwise, she would be completely lost in the maze of shops, houses, and pubs. Two hours later, she returned to the house, packages in tow. She dropped them in the kitchen, and began to make lunch. A rustle in the living room alerted her that someone was awake. Sirius stumbled into the kitchen and plopped into one of the bar stools.

"Good morning, sleeping beauty," she laughed.

"Funny," he yawned. "What time is it?"

"Noon."

"Noon! Why didn't you wake me up before now? I have to go," he said, jumping out of his seat.

"Go where?"

"Bulgaria."

Isabelle slammed Sirius back onto the bar stool. "You're not going anywhere. Go ahead–try to disapperate. Try to get off that bar stool, even. It won't happen. Snape used to use this handy little spell on me, when I wouldn't listen to him." She crossed her arms, and stared at him.

He glared back. "How did you do that? I didn't see a wand, and wandless magic is a Dark Art."

"Technically, wandless magic is not a Dark Art. I have not used a wand since Sergei got mad at me when we were first married, and he broke my wand into about ten pieces. But, that's not the point. The point is that you are not going to run off like some madman to Bulgaria."

"My fifteen-year old daughter is with that boy, probably unsupervised, doing Lord only knows what, and you expect me to sit here quietly!"

"Your fifteen-year old daughter is a smart girl. You know that. She will be fine. You, on the other hand, are not fine. Look at yourself. You are a mess, physically, mentally, and emotionally. You are in no shape to be a proper father to her," she continued, gently. "Or Harry. Give yourself some time to heal, Sirius."

He sighed. "You are right. I know it. I am a real mess, aren't I?"

She looked at his worn, tattered robes, wild hair, and emaciated frame. "Do you really want me to answer that?"

"Not particularly."

Remus walked in, stretching. "Good morning, sunshine," she told him.

"Morning," he mumbled.

"Here," she said, putting plates full of food in front of them. "Eat up. Both of you need some energy. It's going to be a very busy day." They dug into the food, as she unpacked her packages, sorting them into two piles.

"What is that?" Remus asked through a mouth full of food.

"This," Isabelle said, "is everything y'all need to rejoin the human race. Clothes, shoes, razors, soap, for starters. As soon as you clean up and change, we are going to Hogsmeade for haircuts. Because, well, y'all do look kind of pathetic."

Sirius wrinkled his nose and looked at Remus. "I think she has a problem with our new look. I think it's quite fashionable."

"Look, old man," she replied, "you can either clean up, or sit on the stool all day and wallow in your dirtiness. You, too," she said, looking at Lupin. "The showers are upstairs." Grumbling, they picked up their piles, and headed up the staircase.

"She's sure gotten bossy," Lupin said, with a small smile.

"Yeah, Snape ruined her. Speaking of, why doesn't she force Snape to take a shower? I looked better in Azkaban than he does."

"Good point," he said, shutting the bathroom door behind him.

An hour later, they returned down the stairs. "Happy now?" Sirius asked. He did have to admit to himself that Isabelle has good taste in clothing, and that it was nice to wear something that didn't have ten holes in it. Not that he would tell her that, of course.

"Ecstatic," she replied. "Now, let's do something about the bird's nest on top of your head, shall we?"

After a trying ordeal at the barber shop, including the barber swearing profusely after breaking two combs in Sirius' hair alone, they were walking home when Isabelle stopped suddenly in front of The Three Broomsticks.

"Let's stop for a drink, ok? It's on me."

They walked in, sitting at a table in the corner, out of sight of most of the patrons. Isabelle brought over three drinks, which they drank quickly, because Remus noticed a reporter from the Daily Prophet looking over at them with interest. They managed to duck out of the pub, but not before the reporter recognized Isabelle. He quietly followed them, and took several pictures of them walking down the street, talking and laughing. Taking out his notepad, he began writing a story, questioning the involvement of newly freed Sirius Black with Countess Isabelle Remizov.

-----

Harry paced back and forth, in Mrs. Figg's living room. Today, the Dursleys were set to arrive home from Spain. Mrs. Figg noticed Harry's unease as she walked in the room. Although it had been a week ago, the shock of Sirius Black's trial was still quite evident in Harry's demeanor. He spent many sleepless nights staring at the ceiling, wondering about the family that he had never met. 

Mrs. Figg turned to him with a large photograph album in her hands. It was deep blue, with gold leaf edging. He stifled a groan. It was the same photograph book that she had made him look at since he was a small boy.

"Before you leave, I wanted to give this to you," she said, handing Harry the album. "A long time ago, I worked as an Auror. One of the last assignments that I had was to help gather evidence from the Black house. There was nothing recoverable there, except for this album, which I found about fifty feet from the back door. I took it, and kept it here all these years, so that when you discovered the whole truth about your family, you would have pictures of all of them."

"That's what you've been making me look at all these years? My family?"

"Yes. Would you like to see them?"

"Sure."

"Hold on, let me reanimate the photographs. I charmed them into Muggle-like still frame photography, so that your aunt and uncle wouldn't get too suspicious." She opened the old, dusty book. "Here's one, of your family's old house in Dover."

The large, sprawling house was beautiful, Harry thought. "Who is that climbing the trellis?"

"That's your Aunt Isabelle when she was eight. And, that's your mother yelling at her to get down, before she breaks her neck."

"What was my mother like?" Harry asked.

"She was very clever, and beautiful. Lily had a fiery temper, and was headstrong. She and your father were always fussing about something or the other. He would make some comment that he knew would make her angry, just to see her reaction. He wasn't happy unless he started something–that's why he was such a practical joker, I suppose." She turned the page. "This is he, Sirius, and Remus playing Quiddich in the back yard."

Harry watched the three of them playing Quiddich for a minute. "Hmm," he said. "Dad did have a weak spot on the right side. Go figure." He flipped through the pages, and stopped on a picture of his parents' wedding. He choked up a bit, and turned the page to a wedding picture of two people he had never seen before.

"Who are they?"

She laughed. "That's Sirius and your Aunt Gina."

Harry stared at the page. "No way that's Sirius. Absolutely no way." The groom was beaming with a happiness that he had never seen from his godfather.

"That's him. No one could figure out why they fell in love with each other; they were total opposites. Gina was shy, soft spoken, and hid behind her drawings most of the time. While your mother was out conquering the world, Gina was quietly designing clothing. She was very good at it, too. Sirius, on the other hand, was handsome, clever and daring–and he knew it. He did not suffer from a lack of self-confidence."

Mrs. Figg flipped the pages, and stopped at the next to last page. "This is the photograph I really wanted you to see. This is the Christmas after you were born. There's your mother, holding you, with your father beside her. That's Isabelle holding Grace, and Sirius is trying to make Grace smile by tickling her foot with a sprig from the Christmas tree. But, she seems too interested in pulling your ear. Hmmm...Remus must have been taking the picture."

Harry stared at the picture, enchanted, as the figures laughed at each other and waved up to him. The doorbell rang, and Harry quickly stuffed the album into his bookbag. Aunt Petunia, looking very tan, hovered in the doorway as Harry hugged Mrs. Figg goodbye and hopped into the car. He sat silently on the ride home, ignoring Dudley's comments about how wonderful Spain was. He followed them into the house, pausing to snicker at the dirty, moss-eaten spot on the front stoop.

Uncle Vernon sat down on the living room sofa as Aunt Petunia opened up the windows to freshen the room. Just as Harry turned to go upstairs and look at the photo album again, Pig, Ron's owl, flew into the room, landing on Harry's shoulder. Uncle Vernon flushed a deep red, but Harry calmly untied the letter, and sat down in an armchair to read it.

"Dear Harry," the letter said, "Mom got an owl from Sirius this morning asking if you could stay with us for the rest of the month. She says that since he's your guardian now, not the Muggles, that we don't have to ask permission to come and get you. Fred, George, and I are planning to walk over from Mrs. Figg's house to get you at five o'clock this evening, and we can get back to the Burrow from there. See you then, Ron."

"What did that letter say?" Uncle Vernon fumed.

"That Ron's family is coming to pick me up tonight," he said cooly. "From there, I will be staying with my godfather."

Uncle Vernon sputtered, as Dudley let out a squeak, and ran upstairs to his room. For the rest of the day, tension was high in the house. Every time Uncle Vernon or Aunt Petunia saw Harry, they stomped off into another room. At a quarter to five, Aunt Petunia walked into the living room, where Harry was waiting for Ron.

"What are you looking at?" she spat.

"Pictures of my family," he said through clenched teeth.

The doorbell rang and Harry opened the door. Before leaving the house, he turned around. "Goodbye, Aunt Petunia," he said. "I am going to live with my _real_ family now." He closed the door, and headed down the steps with Ron, Fred, and George. Despite the past few months, Harry felt happy and free. He was finally rid of the Dursleys.

The four boys ran to Mrs. Figg's house, where they enjoyed some chocolate pie before leaving for the Burrow. Fred and George went upstairs and brought down Harry's trunk. They tossed some Floo powder into the fireplace, and were off with the trunk, followed by Ron. Harry took a deep breath, put his glasses in his pocket, and stepped into the fire, saying, "The Burrow!" After a minute, Harry landed in the Weasleys' kitchen.

Mrs. Weasley was at the stove, stirring a pot full of something that smelled delicious. Fred, George, and Ron were standing around the kitchen table, staring at something. Harry walked up to the table, where the Daily Prophet was laying there, open. Ron pointed at a headline, shaking his head in disbelief.

"Pardoned Criminal Caught with Famous Dancer," Harry read aloud.

"Keep going," Ron said. "You're not going to believe this."

Harry sat down with the paper, and read on. "Earlier this week, Countess Isabelle Remizov was seen in Hogsmeade on the arm of Sirius Black. Black, who was recently acquitted for conspiracy to commit the murders of James and Lily Potter, appeared calm and carefree, as he escorted the Countess through town. The Daily Prophet has confirmed that Countess Remizov secretly resigned from her husband's ballet company two years ago, and divorced him last year. Since that time, she returned to her native Virginia. However, she was at Sirius Black's trial last week, and has been seen with him ever since. Could the pardoned criminal be seeking comfort in the arms of the world's most famous dancer? We will keep you updated, as this story develops."

Harry's mouth dropped open. There Sirius was, in black and white, chatting easily with Countess Remizov. He looked much like he did in his wedding picture -- happy, clean-cut, without the deadened look in his eyes. Could this be true? He looked at Ron.

"I don't know Harry. They seem pretty cozy to me," he said.

"No kidding," Harry mumbled. "But, remember what Rita Skeeter said about Hermione and me last year. It could just be a misunderstanding."

"Maybe you should send an owl to Sirius, to ask. Since you are going to stay with him, that is."

"Good idea," Harry said, looking for a piece of parchment and a quill. "Dear Sirius," he wrote. "Here is a copy of an article the Daily Prophet wrote about you. Not to be nosy, or anything, but I was just wondering how true the article is. Your godson, Harry." He folded up the article in the parchment, tied the letter to Pig's leg, and sent the little owl off into the sunset.

"Well, we'll just have to see what he says," Ron said. "Anyway, Fred and George are already out practicing Quiddich. Want to go join them?"

"Absolutely," Harry said. Ron and Harry ran upstairs, grabbed their broomsticks, and went outside. Fred and George were beating Bludgers around the backyard, knocking down tree limbs. After an hour of practicing Quiddich, the four trudged back to the house, for dinner.

Ron and Harry were sitting upstairs in Ron's room, discussing the Chudley Cannons' chances of having a winning season, when there was a tapping on the window. Pig flew in the window, slamming into Harry's chest. Apparently, Sirius had lost no time writing Harry a reply.

"Dear Harry," the letter said, "I hope that you made it to Ron's house alright, and that you are doing ok. I am not sure where the Daily Prophet got its information, but all of it is correct. Countess Remizov is an old friend of mine and is my houseguest, perhaps permanently. This does not mean that I don't want you to live with me and Remus. I don't want you to think that at all. In fact, I can hardly wait until I have wrapped up my business and can come pick you up from the Burrow. Please tell Ron and Hermione that they are welcome to come visit with you. There is plenty of room in the house for them. See you soon. Love, Sirius. P.S. Please don't let Hermione spend time alone with Viktor, ok?"

"Wow," Ron said. "So, what does this mean? Is Sirius dating this Countess, or are they just friends?"

"I have no idea," Harry replied. "I guess we just have to wait until he picks us up. You are coming with me, right?"

"Wouldn't miss it for the world. What do you think he meant by the p.s.? Viktor isn't even coming here with Hermione. How weird."

"Beats me."


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's Note:** Well, this is where my fave plot twist happens! Ah, the tangled web I weave...I pretty much thing everyone's related at some point or other by the time i finish...

Also, there seems to be a couple inconsistencies w/the rest of the plot here. (ex. Isabelle not knowing that Sirius didn't get along w/his dad, when if you've read the Prequels, she v. much knew.) That's b/c when I originally wrote this, my entire plot wasn't fully formed in my head. Instead of re-editing, I've decided that Isabelle was playing dumb. She's a sneaky one & that certainly fits in her character. So, when you read random plot inconsistency, think sneaky. Instead of lazy author. -grin-

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**Chapter 4**

Hedwig quietly flew through Ron's open window, landing beside Harry's pillow. She nipped at his ear, until he opened his eyes, yawned, and removed the letter tied to her leg. Harry sat up and put on his glasses. He couldn't believe how quickly the past three weeks had gone. He opened the envelope, took out the letter, and began to read.

"Dear Harry," the letter began in a handwriting that he didn't recognize, "Sirius was in a great hurry this morning, and asked me to send you a quick note. He didn't realize that where we are living is not connected to a regular Floo network. So, he is taking the train to London, and renting a car from there to the Burrow. He left extremely early, so I guess that he should arrive there around noon. I have heard much about you, and look forward to seeing you, Ron, and Hermione tonight. Until then, Isabelle. P.S. Because it is a full moon tonight, Remus will not be at dinner. Also, he says that the fudge in the refrigerator is completely off limits."

Harry stood up, and walked over to Ron's bed. "What?" Ron groaned.

"Look at this."

"What is it," he yawned, "a letter from Sirius?"

"Yes. Well, no."

"Which is it?"

"Here. Read for yourself."

Ron took the letter from Harry's hand, and read it quickly. "Well...it looks like she's still there, doesn't it?"

"Yup," Harry sighed. "And will be at dinner tonight."

Hermione knocked on the door, and let herself in. "What's going on?" she asked. "I heard talking, so I decided to see what you were up to."

"Here," Ron said. "Read this." He passed her the letter.

She scanned the page, wrinkling her nose. "Well, it seems like she's sure made herself at home, doesn't it?"

"Uh-huh," Ron said. "At least Harry doesn't have to put up with her by himself, right? That's what friends are for."

"Well, according to this letter, Sirius should be here in an hour and a half. I don't know about you, but not even half of my stuff is packed," Hermione said, rushing out of the door.

"Girls. Why do they have so much stuff?" Ron asked.

Harry didn't have a reply, so he decided to get out a deck of Exploding Snap cards. He and Ron played cards for about an hour, until Hermione came in and yelled at them to start packing. They rolled their eyes at her, but did put the cards away and started getting their stuff together. Fifteen minutes later, Ron and Harry dragged their trunks downstairs, huffing.

"See? We had fifteen minutes to spare. I don't know what she was yelling about," Harry said, getting the Exploding Snap cards back out. They became so involved in their game that they didn't realize that Sirius had arrived until they overheard him talking to Mrs. Weasley in the foyer.

"No, Mrs. Weasley, I can assure you that nothing inappropriate is going on in my home," they heard Sirius say.

Ron turned red. "Why is Mom so nosy?" he hissed, as Sirius walked into the room.

"Hi, Harry, Ron," he said. "Are you ready to go?"

"Yep," Harry replied. They began loading their trunks into the rental car, which Harry was certain that Sirius had enhanced, to make all of the luggage fit. Ron and Sirius had just lifted Harry's trunk, when Hermione came running down the stairs.

"Sorry it took me so long, but I couldn't find my Transfiguration book because I was working on my homework last night," she explained. Sirius turned white and dropped the trunk on Harry's foot.

"Ouch!" Harry screamed, lifting the trunk off his throbbing foot.

"Oh, sorry, Harry. I must've lost my grip on the trunk," Sirius apologized. She looked just like Regina at fifteen, he thought. Even that bushy, unruly Potter hair. He mentally shook himself, picked up the trunk, and carried it to the car.

Fifteen minutes later, they set off for London, with Hermione chatting away about the upcoming school year, and the O.W.L. tests. Ron and Harry rolled their eyes, because they had not even started their homework yet. Luckily, they arrived at King's Cross station right when Hermione had just started lecturing them about the importance of the fifth year of school. Sirius turned in the rental car, and they headed to Platform 9 3/4. All four of them managed to walk onto the platform without drawing too much attention to themselves, and settled into an empty compartment on the train.

"Are you living in Hogsmeade?" Harry asked, wondering why they would need to take the Hogwarts Express to go to Sirius' home.

"Not exactly." Sirius said, with a small smile.

"So," Hermione mused, "We're going somewhere without a regular Floo network, that's near Hogsmeade. But, Hogsmeade uses the Floo system, as does everywhere, actually, except Hogwarts. Are we going to Hogwarts? But why? And how?"

"Whoa! One question at a time. Yes, we are going to Hogwarts. We are getting there through the faculty entrance outside of Hogsmeade. And, we are going to the faculty grounds because Remus and I were asked to teach at Hogwarts next year," Sirius explained.

Harry couldn't believe his ears. "Really?"

"Really. I'm going to be teaching Transfiguration with Professor McGonagall, and Remus is going to be helping out with the Defense Against the Dark Arts class."

"So, I should've waited to do my homework, then," Hermione said with a sigh.

"But, the faculty grounds are only for teachers, right? Then how can that Countess lady live with you?" Ron asked.

"Because she has been asked to teach three different subject next year. And, speaking of Isabelle, please treat her with respect when you meet her later. Remember that what the news says about someone is not always the whole truth," Sirius said sharply. "Ok?"

"Ok," Ron, Harry, and Hermione groaned, while going to buy candy and drinks from the cart. They walked back in, talking about Quiddich.

"I really think that we'll take the cup this year," Ron was saying.

"But, how can we, since Oliver Wood graduated, and we didn't train a keeper all last year?" Hermione asked.

"Look, you're not the world's biggest expert on Quiddich just because you're dating some Quiddich superstar," Ron spat.

Hermione turned red. "And what's that to you? And maybe he taught me a thing or two about Quiddich over the summer. What do you have to say about that?"

"Plenty. First, I've never seen you ride a broomstick properly in your life. Second, I'm sure you went to Bulgaria just to learn about Quiddich."

"It's none of your business where I go or what I do!" she screamed, walking out of the compartment and slamming the door.

"What?" Ron said.

"Nothing," Harry replied, shaking his head.

"Then why are you looking at me like that?"

"No reason."

"Why are girls so impossible to talk to?"

"I don't have a problem talking to Hermione."

Ron turned red, and looked out the window. "Ok, so maybe I'm a little jealous of Krum."

"A little?"

"Ok, a lot. He's famous, good at Quiddich..." His voice trailed off.

"And, he's dating Hermione."

"That too. Just don't tell her, ok?" Ron asked urgently. Sirius raised an eyebrow, but managed to keep his mouth shut by stuffing a chocolate frog into it.

"Fine."

Ron kept staring out of the window, lost in thought, while Harry and Sirius talked about the upcoming Quiddich season, and different strategies. Ten minutes later, Hermione walked back into the compartment, and buried herself in a book. Sirius was amazed at how he could have known her for two years, and never realized that she was his daughter–his and Gina's. She would be so incredibly proud of her, he thought.

"Sirius? You didn't answer my question," Harry said.

"Sorry," he said, focusing on his nephew. "I didn't hear the question. Can you repeat it?"

Two hours later, the train pulled into Hogsmeade station. They stepped onto the platform, where Sirius arranged for their belongings to be delivered later that evening. People stared as Sirius, Harry, Ron, and Hermione walked through town, finally stopping at the Hogwarts faculty gate. Sirius tapped the gate twice, and they walked onto the faculty grounds. Harry, Ron, and Hermione stared in awe at the different houses and the fountain.

"Why does the fountain change shape?" Ron asked.

"Haven't you read Hogwarts, A History, yet?" Hermione puffed. "The fountain changes shape to the animals of each of the four houses." Ron and Harry rolled their eyes.

They followed Sirius through the grounds, and up the stairs of the house. Sirius put his hand on the door handle, paused, and turned to the children. "Remember what I told you earlier about Isabelle?" he reminded them.

"Yes," they said, and walked into the living room. The room was a warm beige, decorated with deep chocolate leather furniture, accented by various houseplants and art. Sirius asked them to stay in the living room for a minute, so that he could go find Isabelle to introduce them to her.

"Oh, yes, she's here to stay," Hermione whispered.

"How can you know that?" Harry whispered back.

"Because there's no way a man could have decorated this house. And no woman would go through this much effort, unless she was going to stay to enjoy it," she replied.

"I'll have to take your word on that," Harry said, interrupted by voices coming down the hallway.

"You didn't have to cook dinner, you know. Ordering meals from the house elves is one of the benefits of living here," they heard.

"You know how I feel about house elves," came the angry reply. "Sergei barely treated his house elves better than a dog. Oh, no offense. Anyway, house elves are not slave labor. They deserve better than that, and I refuse to condone the treatment that they get."

"Not another one," Ron moaned. "I thought Hermione was bad enough. Now there's two of them." Harry secretly agreed, as Sirius and Isabelle walked into the room.

"Isabelle, this is Harry, Ron, and..." his voice cracked.

"Hermione," Isabelle finished. "Nice to meet all of you." She smiled, and Harry couldn't help but like her, in spite of himself. She bit her lip, thinking. "So, Ron, what are the Cannons' chances this season?"

"You like the Chudley Cannons?" Ron said, in mild amazement.

"Of course! I grew up doing nothing but watching and playing Quiddich. My family used to make fun of me for liking the Cannons because they never win, but I always liked the underdog."

Ron grinned. Maybe this Countess wasn't so bad, after all. "Well," he began, explaining in great detail the roster, new strategies, and the competition in the league this year. Out of the corner of her eye, Isabelle noticed Hermione sighing and rolling her eyes at Ron.

"You don't like Quiddich?" she asked her.

"No, Hermione just thinks she's a Quiddich expert because she's dating one," Ron replied witheringly.

"Well, maybe she is an expert. You never know," Isabelle replied, raising an eyebrow. Hermione sat up, surprised. "Anyway, dinner will be ready in about half an hour. I see that you've got Exploding Snap cards in your pocket, Harry. I haven't played Exploding Snap in ages. Want to play say, girls against guys?"

"Sure!" they all replied. Sirius smiled to himself. In about five minutes, Isabelle had all three children eating out of her hand. She is definitely a charmer, he thought.

"Hey! Are you in, or out?" Isabelle asked him.

"Um, I think I'll go check on dinner, and set the table," he said, hoping that she would take the hint that he needed to be alone for a minute.

She gave him a knowing look. "Sure, I'd appreciate the help."

A half hour later, everyone's eyebrows were singed. The girls were beating the guys two to one, when the oven timer went off. "I'll be right back," Isabelle told them, walking into the kitchen. Sirius was sitting at the bar, with his head in his hands, eyes closed. She walked past him to the oven, took out the roast, and set it on the counter.

"Your girl is beautiful," she told him, cutting the meat and putting it on a platter.

"Thank her mother for that," came the muffled reply.

"She does favor Gina, just like Harry favors James. It's almost like seeing the twins again."

"I know."

"She has a lot of you in her, though. Temperamental, but very loyal," she said, conversationally.

Sirius looked up, swallowing back tears. "On the train ride here, I couldn't stop thinking about how proud Regina would be of her. You don't know how much I wish she was here now. She would know exactly what to say to Grace, to make her understand what happened. Instead, she has me. I couldn't even say her name–how can I tell her that I'm her father? How can I be a father to her?"

"You will, when the time comes. And, you were a great to me, so I know that you'll be a wonderful father to her," Isabelle said reassuringly, as she began to walk to the dining room carrying dishes in both hands.

"Belle?"

She smiled at her nickname. He was the only person who ever got away with calling her that. "Yes?"

"I'm glad you're here. I know I couldn't do this without you."

"Anytime." She poked her head in the living room. "Hey, dinner's ready."

Three pairs of hungry feet rushed into the dining room. Dinner was a festive affair, thanks mostly to Isabelle. Harry marveled at her energy, wit, and sense of humor. No wonder Sirius and Remus liked her so much, Harry thought. He had never enjoyed a dinner so much, and was a little sad when everyone finished their pudding.

Sirius stood up from the table. "Um, if everyone's finished, I would like you to come into the living room for a minute. All of you."

Harry, Ron, and Hermione looked at each other with apprehensively, and walked into the living room, sitting on the sofa. Sirius moved a large rectangular ottoman across from the sofa, and he and Isabelle sat on it, looking at each other nervously.

"What's going on?" Harry asked. Was this about what he thought it was?

"Well," Sirius began, "it's about us."

"Yes," Isabelle continued, "we, uh..."

"Are you getting married?" Harry blurted out. "Is that what you want to talk about?"

Sirius and Isabelle looked at each other in shock. "What?" Isabelle said.

"Well, I know that you just got a divorce, and that Sirius is single, and that you're old friends, and--"

"Whoa," Sirius said. "Wait a minute. Where on earth would you get that idea from?"

"The Daily Prophet," Harry said, in a small voice.

"Ohhh," Sirius and Isabelle said together, laughing.

"No, we are not getting married," Sirius said.

"Definitely not," Isabelle added. "Were all of you thinking that?" Three embarrassed heads nodded, as the doorbell rang.

"I'll get it!" Harry jumped up to answer the door. It was the delivery man, with all of the luggage from the Hogwarts Express. Sirius directed him upstairs, and came back into the living room five minutes later.

"Well, now that your things are here, and you know that we are not getting married," he said with a grin, "we do want to talk to you about some things." His face grew very serious. "About what you heard about our family at the trial. Do you remember everything that was said?" They nodded their heads.

"As you know now," Isabelle continued, "I was married to a Death Eater once. When I was married to him, I heard all kinds of stories about your family, just like I'm sure you've heard rumors, too. But, what I am about to tell you is the truth, and I can prove it." She told the story of the night Harry's parents died, and how everyone thought that Isabelle Evans and Grace Black died. The only detail she left out was the name of the Death Eater who saved them. When she finished, three pairs of eyes were spellbound, listening to her.

"But, how do you know for sure?" Hermione asked.

"Like father, like daughter," she muttered under her breath. "I know, because I was there that night."

Ron looked from Isabelle, to Harry, and back again. "Um, Harry, what was your aunt's name?"

"Petunia."

"No! The other one."

"Isabelle, I think." Harry looked up, and suddenly understood. "Are you--"

"I am." Isabelle jumped up, and gave Harry a huge hug. "And you, sir, are my very favorite nephew. We won't talk about the rest of the family, huh?"

"Fine by me." He looked at Sirius with a sheepish grin. "That's why you've been spending time with her? Boy, is the Daily Prophet wrong."

"Tell me about it," Isabelle muttered.

"Wait a minute," Hermione said. "If you're alive, that means that your daughter is alive too, doesn't it?"

Sirius and Isabelle looked at each other, and sat back down. "That's right," Sirius said, in a choked voice. He took a deep breath, and slowly exhaled. "That's what we need to talk to you about."

"Why?" asked Harry. "If this secret keeper told you who she is, then why can't you just go out and find her?"

"It's not that easy," Isabelle said. "Well, the finding part is. We've even talked to her foster parents, and they are okay with telling her the truth. But, we want to know if you think it's the right thing to do. Unfortunately, our family is notorious throughout the wizarding world. No matter what we do, or where we go, we make news." She pulled out a stack of articles. "See? Here are Sirius and I leaving Richmond with all of my belongings. And, here's an article about our trip to Diagon Alley. Oh, and a lovely photo spread of us jogging. I don't think that's my best side, do you, Sirius?"

"Didn't know there was a best side," he replied. She dumped the articles over his head, scattering them all over the living room floor.

"The point is that all of us–you, Sirius, and I–live in a glass house. All of our dirty laundry is discussed in detail all over the world, believe it or not. I remember how difficult it was to deal with our family falling apart when I was your age, and I was in hiding. The three of you are Grace Black's age. How do you think she would deal with this? What do you think we should do–continue to shelter her from all of the unwanted attention our family brings, or find her and tell her the truth?"

Harry, Ron, and Hermione looked at each other, thinking. Ron spoke up first. "Well, I could imagine that it would be hard to have one family your whole life, and then try to adjust to another one. Not that you aren't cool or anything."

"That's just because you have a family," Hermione replied.

"What's that supposed to mean? You have a family, too!" Harry replied. "I'm the only orphan here. Sorry, Aunt Isabelle and Sirius. We're the only orphans here."

"Actually, Ron's the only person in this room who is not an orphan," Hermione said, in a very small voice.

"What?" Harry and Ron said together.

"It's true. My parents adopted me when I was very young. I guess they didn't know I was a witch, because they were very surprised when I got my letter from Hogwarts."

Sirius and Isabelle exchanged uneasy looks, not knowing where this conversation was going to go, but neither one of them wanted to interrupt the children.

"Why didn't you tell us before?" Ron said.

"Because I had parents, sort of, and Harry didn't. I felt bad, because my parents love me. All I have to say is that every day, I wonder who my real parents were, and why they left me. If I was you, Sirius, I would find your daughter, and tell her the truth. Even if she doesn't want to get to know you, and I couldn't imagine why not, at least she would know. This Grace would find out eventually, anyway, and would probably feel abandoned."

Ron walked over to Hermione, and put his arm around her shoulder. Despite the situation, Sirius raised an eyebrow at Ron's display of affection. Luckily, neither Ron nor Hermione saw Sirius' reaction, but Harry did. Harry looked at Hermione, sniffling, with her head on Ron's shoulder, and back at Sirius, who was now trying to hide the fact that he was clenching his teeth.

The conversation continued around Harry, who was desperately trying to remember what Isabelle had said at the trial in her letter about Grace Black. He managed to remember that her birthday was May 13, and that she had Potter hair, whatever that meant, but that was about all. He turned to Hermione.

"Hermione, when is your birthday?" he asked, looking into Sirius' grey-brown eyes for some sort of reaction.

"Harry Potter, you have known me for four years! You know that my birthday is May 13. You gave me a nice book, remember? Well, the Tri-Wizard Tournament probably fried your brain, anyway. Why do you ask?" she replied, narrowing her grey-brown eyes at him.

"Just to make sure that I didn't forget, that's all," he said, faking a relieved laugh. Was this just a coincidence? He didn't want to say anything, in case he wasn't right. "I'll be right back, ok? I just have to use the restroom."

"Sure. Your room is at the end of the hallway, and there is a restroom off of it," Isabelle said.

Harry ran up the stairs, down the hallway, and into his room. He threw open his trunk, and rummaged around for the photo album, turning it to Sirius' wedding picture. Sure enough, Hermione was a spitting image of his Aunt Gina, but with Sirius' eyes. Harry closed the book, and went back down the stairs, carrying the book with him.

Sirius saw the look on Harry's face when he walked back in the living room, and he realized that Harry had figured out the truth. Isabelle noticed, too, but her attention was quickly diverted to the photo album that Harry was carrying.

"My photo album!" Isabelle cried.

"This is yours?" Harry said.

"Yes, I took it when Grace and I left, but I lost it somewhere. How did you find it?"

"I didn't. Mrs. Figg did, and kept it all of these years."

"Can I look at it?" Harry gave her the album, and she flipped immediately to the picture in the back of the family at Christmas. Everyone crowed around Isabelle to see the picture.

"Is that your daughter?" Ron asked.

"Yes, that's Grace," Sirius said, gathering up his self-confidence, which was strangely failing him. "Do you have a picture of Regina when she was younger, around Grace's age?" he asked Isabelle quietly.

"No, I didn't know you back then. All I have is your wedding picture."

"I guess that will have to do." He gave Isabelle a lopsided, nervous smile. "Hermione, have you ever seen a picture of your real parents?"

"No, why? Did you know them? Is there a picture of them in there?" she asked eagerly. Harry rolled his eyes in utter disgust. For such a smart girl, Hermione was incredibly dense sometimes.

"Yes, and yes," he responded, flipping through the pages. Isabelle got off the ottoman, so Hermione could sit down beside Sirius. "Here they are," he said.

Hermione stared at the page for a minute, tilting her head. Sirius knew that he looked a little different than he did at twenty-two, but he figured that he was at least recognizable. I guess not, he thought, as Hermione puzzled. He decided to try a different tact.

"Do you know how you got your name?" he asked her.

"No, how?"

He smiled. "Your mother was a bookworm, and she especially loved Shakespeare. Hermione is a name from a Shakespeare play, but I'm not exactly sure which one. The Winter's Tale, I think. Anyway, after you were born, she knew that she was going to die." His voice choked a bit. "So, she named you Hermione, which, in Greek mythology, means good luck. She said that she always wanted her daughter to know that she thought you were the best thing that ever happened to her, even if you costed her her life."

"Really? My mother really said that?" Hermione said, tears coming down her face.

"Yes, she really said that. But, she also said that we should call you by your middle name, Grace, so that you would learn to deal with whatever life brings you with grace and dignity. You see, your parents were opposites. Your mother was patient and compassionate, but your father was–is quite impulsive and temperamental at times. Regina must've thought that if we called you Grace, then maybe you wouldn't develop your father's faults." He put his head in his hands. "I miss your mother so much. She would be so proud of you and how grown up you've become."

"Regina?" Hermione said, a little dazed, and not fully understanding. "The only Regina I've heard you mention is Regina Potter, who married--" she stopped suddenly and looked at Sirius. "you. If Regina Potter Black is my mother, then you..." her voice trailed off.

"Then you are Hermione Grace Black. My daughter." Sirius swallowed. How would she react?

Hermione laughed. She just laughed, almost hysterically.

"Are you alright?" Sirius asked, concerned.

"Yes, I'm fine. I was just thinking that if Regina Potter is my mother, then James Potter is my uncle, making Harry my first cousin. Too bad we didn't know that last year, because that would've kept Rita Skeeter from writing all those articles about us dating. Imagine what people will say when they find out that we are cousins," she laughed. Her laughter turned into sobs, and she threw herself into Sirius' arms.

"I'm so sorry, Grace. Everyone told me you were dead," he said, crying.

"Everyone told me you were dead, too," she sobbed. They held each other, crying for a few minutes. Isabelle went to the bathroom, and brought back a box of tissues, which was used up quickly.

Hermione blew her nose, and looked up at Sirius. "Si–um, what am I supposed to call you? What did I call you when I was a baby?"

Isabelle and Sirius cracked up laughing. "What's so funny?" Hermione asked.

"Well, a long time ago, all of us lived in the same house. Lily's house, technically. I guess it's yours, now, Isabelle. Anyway, after you and Harry were born, Lily started working at home, so that she could take care of the two of you during the day. Well, Lily was the only mother figure either of you had. But, when James and I came home, I took charge of you, while he took care of Harry, so that Lily could have a break and get work done. Usually, we played with the two of you together, which meant that you got very jealous whenever I would pay attention to Harry. When both of you were first learning to talk, James and I made the mistake of trying to get you both to call us 'Daddy'. So, Harry called James 'Daddy', and he heard you call me 'Daddy', and I guess he assumed that all men are just named 'Daddy'. One day, we were all playing in the living room, and Harry called me 'Daddy'. And before anyone could say a word, you screamed, 'No!' and hit Harry on the head with your baby rattle. I think you still have the scar, Harry. Anyway, from then on, we taught you to call me 'Papa', so there wouldn't be any confusion," Sirius explained.

Harry and Hermione stared at each other, and burst out laughing. "Some cousin you are. You tried to kill me! And to think, I saved you from that troll first year," Harry said.

"Well, it's not like I haven't helped you out any, Potter," she replied in a mock huff. She turned to Sirius. "So, is it okay if I call you Papa, then?"

"Yes, I'd like that." They smiled shyly at each other. "If you would like," Sirius continued, hesitantly, "you could use my last name, too. But, you don't have to–I won't be offended if you don't."

"Of course I will," she said softly. "You are my family. Not that my other parents aren't, but it's just not the same." Hermione hugged her father again.

Ron sat on the corner of the sofa, pale. He couldn't believe what he had just heard. Not that he wasn't happy for Hermione, but this news came as quite a shock to him. Earlier that day, he had admitted for the first time that he had a huge crush on Hermione. In front of her father. What was it that I overheard in The Three Broomsticks third year? he thought. Oh, yes–nasty temper he's got, that Sirius Black. Ron thought that he was going to be sick, and desperately wished to become invisible before Sirius pounded him for wanting to date his daughter.

"Ron? Are you ok?" Sirius asked him with a slight grin. He knew full well what Ron was thinking, because he felt the exact same way when James first realized how he felt about Regina. Not that he would go out of his way to put Ron at ease. After all, Hermione was his daughter.

"Yes, sir, just fine, thank you," Ron gulped. Harry snickered at the humor of the situation. Ron gave him an evil look and muttered, "Shut up, Harry, if you know what's good for you."

Harry just grinned. "Hmmm?" he said, innocently. He looked around the living room at his family. All his life, Harry had wanted a family, and thought he had no one but the Dursleys. But, here he was, with another aunt on his mother's side of the family, and an uncle and cousin on his father's side. This is definitely the happiest day of my life, Harry thought, yawning.

Isabelle looked up from the photo album, where she was showing Hermione baby pictures, and glanced over at the clock. It only read ten thirty, but Harry, Ron, and Hermione were starting to look droopy. She looked over at Sirius, and pointed upstairs. He nodded, knowing that they must be exhausted.

"Hey, y'all have to be tired from traveling. Why don't I show you your rooms?" Isabelle began up the stairs, with three sets of tired feet behind her. She paused at the landing. "Harry, your room is at the end of the hallway, but you already know that. You're going to share a bathroom with Remus, which isn't that great. But, I have to share one with Sirius. He takes super long showers, and he sings. Loudly. So, I think you got the better end of that deal." Harry and Ron laughed on their way down the hallway, into Harry's room.

Isabelle turned, and walked to the bedroom on the far left. She turned to Hermione. "I know you go by Hermione now, but I'm afraid that your father and I are a little old-fashioned. Is it alright if we call you Grace every now and then?" She nodded. "Thanks. You're the lucky one, because you get your own bathroom. I know your room's not decorated. Well, neither is Harry's. We don't know your taste, so we wanted to wait until you got here to buy anything. If you need anything, your father's bedroom is across the hall, and mine is next to his. I'm sure he picked that bedroom because he is a notoriously light sleeper, so he would hear if any of you tried to sneak in or out of the house. Anyway, I'll see you in the morning."

"Um, Isabelle?"

"Yes?" She paused on the landing.

"Could you tell me about my mother sometime? About what kind of person, and mother she was? I know she helped raise you." Hermione's lower lip trembled. "How can you miss someone you've never even met?"

Isabelle hugged Hermione. "Easily. I used to get Lily to tell me about our mother all of the time, because I didn't remember my mother before she got sick. You just have an empty place in your heart, a kind of dull ache, that never really goes away."

"Do you miss my mother?"

"Constantly. Your father and I talk about her often. Any time you want to talk about her, or anything else, we're here to talk, ok?"

Hermione smiled. "Ok," she said, walking into her room, and closing the door.

Isabelle walked back downstairs, and into the kitchen, where Sirius was cleaning up after dinner. He flashed her an evil grin. "Just being a good little house elf," he said. They both laughed. She walked to the refrigerator and took out two bottles of butterbeer, passing one to Sirius.

"So, Ron has a crush on Grace, huh?" she asked him.

"You don't miss anything, do you?"

"Never have, never will. I don't recall you complaining about my amazing eavesdropping tendencies and powers of deductive reasoning when it benefits you."

"You know, most people call it nosiness. Yeah, he fancies her. I kind of feel bad for him, though, because he said something about it today on the train. Right in front of me."

"And he's alive?"

"I've gone soft in my old age. Honestly, I prefer him to Krum. He's much too old for her."

"Good luck telling her that. She has your temper, for sure. That sort of talk wouldn't go over well."

He sighed. "I know."

-----

Hermione opened her bedroom door, and tiptoed to Harry's door. She had a funny feeling that Isabelle knew, somehow, that she planned to sneak over to Harry's room, and was warning her to be very quiet, or she would get caught. And that getting caught sneaking around in the middle of the night was not exactly a good thing in this household, for some reason. But, right now, she didn't want to be alone, so she lightly tapped on Harry's door, hoping that they were awake. A minute later, Harry quietly cracked open the door, so Hermione could slip into the room. 

"You couldn't sleep, either?" Harry whispered.

"No," Hermione replied. "It's not every day that you discover that your best friend is your cousin."

"And that my godfather is your father."

"And your uncle. This is just too weird." They laughed.

"Lumos," Ron whispered, lighting up the room.

"How come your room is bigger than mine?" Hermione hissed indignantly.

"Well, you have your own bathroom. So there," Harry shot back.

Ron rolled his eyes at both of them. "Are you hot?" he asked, fanning his face with a Divination chart. Harry and Hermione nodded, so Ron tiptoed to the windows and opened them quietly.

"I know it's soon, but I have no idea what to do about it," came a voice outside the door.

"Well, we have to figure out something." The voices trailed away. Harry was about to speak, when he heard a rustling outside of his window.

"Ouch!"

"Shhh! You'll wake the children."

"Fine. You hold my drink, while I make sure my foot is still attached to my body."

"Drama queen."

"I'm not even going to say what you are right now." Isabelle looked at her swollen foot. Her big toe was twice its normal size, and her other toes were turning purple and blue.

Harry opened his trunk, and put on his Invisibility Cloak. He snuck to the open window, and looked out. Sirius and Isabelle were sitting right beside the window, on the roof of the patio, Isabelle nursing her foot. He snuck back to Ron and Hermione.

"They're sitting on the roof," he whispered.

"Let's put on the Invisibility Cloak, and sneak back over to the window."

"Hermione! I can't believe you just said that." Ron was shocked. Since when was Hermione actually suggesting that they sneak around?

"Maybe we'll learn something about our family. Anyway, if you don't want to listen in, just give me the cloak, and I'll go over there by myself." She crossed her arms.

"Alright, let's go," Harry said. They struggled to fit under the cloak, crawling over to the window, hoping that no one heard them.

"What do you mean, we have to do something about the money? Harry's got the keys, right?"

"Not exactly."

"What do you mean, not exactly? How could Harry buy schoolbooks, or anything, without those keys?"

"Well, it's sort of a long story."

"I've got all night, Belle."

"Fine. As I was saying, we really should do something about our money. As you know, the Ministry of Magic impounded the Black vaults when you were taken to Azkaban. And, if you died in prison, without a legal heir, the Ministry gets all of the money. Like I would have let that happen, anyway, with Grace alive. I seriously doubt the Ministry would have ever given you a proper trial if you hadn't escaped. From what I heard, the Ministry was quite upset that you lived all of those years. I wish I could've been there when Fudge had to release the vaults."

"Wait a minute. I know I'm not poor, but why would my vaults be important to the Ministry?"

"Not poor? Talk about the understatement of the century. Might I remind you that you control the entire Black fortune, and Regina's half of the Potter fortune? At last estimate, those vaults alone were about thirty-seven percent of the money in Gringotts' bank. Which makes you the richest man in the world, wizard or Muggle. Harry comes in a close second, with thirteen percent of Gringotts' assets. And, you're the trustee of Harry's vaults until he turns eighteen. I've made some inquiries, and the Ministry is desperately trying to come up with a way to deal with all of that money being put back into circulation."

Harry, Ron, and Hermione looked at each other, mouths open. They scooted as close to the window as possible, straining to hear the conversation.

"I don't understand. I know my money's been in impound for fifteen years, but Harry's always been able to access the Potter vaults."

"That's where the not exactly comes in. When the Ministry put you in Azkaban, Dumbledore became very concerned that Harry not learn about the particulars of his parents' deaths, and about you, specifically, until he was old enough to handle it."

"And that going to a special branch of Gringotts' bank devoted to the Potter and Black families would have somehow magically tipped him off?"

"That was the rationale. I'm not saying I agree, Sirius. I didn't exactly have much say in the entire matter."

"Back to my earlier question. How could Harry buy anything without accessing the Potter vaults?"

"Well, when I first went to America, I didn't have any money, because I couldn't access my family vault because I was supposedly dead. But, Harry was technically my legal heir. So, Dumbledore changed one of my other vault titles from me to Harry. He kept the key in trust for Harry, and would remove money from time to time, as I needed it. When I started at the ballet, I invested my salary in the Muggle stock market. I was pretty good at it, too, and made a fair amount of money. I put all of the earnings in that vault, to make sure that Harry would have enough money to live off of until someone told him that he's the richest wizard at Hogwarts. He was really quite sensible with spending the money, too. I was impressed that he didn't squander money on anything."

"Just curiously, how much money is in that vault?" Isabelle named the figure. "Good grief! Since when is being a ballerina that profitable?"

"Since I took finance classes in college, and learned how to maximize my investments with as little effort as possible."

"You're starting to sound like my father."

"Oooh, the ultimate insult."

"You know what? The Ministry doesn't have to bother with economic forecasts, or any of that mess. I don't plan on ever touching that money. It can rot in Gringotts' bank for eternity."

"Honestly, and you called me a drama queen."

"I don't need my father's money. I don't want anything to do with him, or the companies, the houses around the world, or whatever kept him away from home my entire childhood. I can raise my family just fine without it. When I went to the Weasleys' house today to pick up the children, all of those kids were laughing and joking. They may not have money, but they have what counts–love, and attention. That makes them the richest family in the world. All I had growing up was a huge, empty house and a large allowance. Poor little rich kid, I know."

"I never knew that you and your father didn't get along."

"How could we get along? He was never around. I always felt abandoned growing up. Do you remember when I found you in your fort all of those years ago? When you said that no one wanted you?"

"How could I forget?"

"The look on your face broke my heart, because I knew exactly how you felt. I guess that's why I took such an interest in raising you–to make sure that you knew that someone cared about you. It nearly killed me to know that Petunia was raising Harry, since she did such a fine job making you feel wanted and loved."

"At least Grace had good parents."

"Thank goodness. Anyway, I don't see what good it would do to access the family vaults now. Harry's spent his whole life without knowing about the money, so why change things now?"

"You're just afraid he'll become obsessed with the money."

"Of course I am! Money corrupts people. Can't you see my point of view?"

"Can't you see my point of view? People have been keeping things from Harry his whole life. I'm sick of it. It's dishonest, no matter how good people's intentions are."

Sirius sighed. "Fine. So, what are we going to do for Harry's birthday?"

"You're driving me crazy! You want to make plans, so I try to tell you about how much money we have to spend, so then you go off about how you don't want the money. And somehow your father comes into the conversation. Focus, Sirius."

"Sorry. Must be the drink talking. What is this, anyway?"

"Southern Comfort."

"Bloody American crap, making me all sentimental. Fill me up again, will you?"

"I think you've had too much already. You're making no sense, and this conversation is going absolutely nowhere."

"All right, you win. I'll go to the bank, and spend the bloody money. But, I'm not going to overboard buying Harry some overly expensive gift just because I haven't been around all his life. That would be a page out of my dear father's book."

"Waxing poetic?"

"Just pour me another drink, Belle."

"Wasn't it you who bought Harry a Firebolt? Nastily expensive little thing, considering it was financed from my vault."

"Oh," he said sheepishly. "Hoped you wouldn't notice that. I couldn't help it. He was playing Quiddich, and his broomstick was attacked by the Whomping Willow. I saw him looking at one in Diagon Alley, so I just sort of ordered one. I wondered why Gringotts had no problem taking the money from your old vault. I didn't realize that it was actually being used. Sorry." He flashed her his most charming smile.

"Stop that!" she laughed. "You're forgiven, as long as you don't mind all of the things that I just can't help buying Grace. I was hoping that maybe she'd like to go shopping with me before school starts."

"Oh, no. Of all the family traditions to bring back, you want to revive the girls' day out."

"Well, Gina and I used to have so much fun shopping, that's all."

"Uh, huh. Why wouldn't you? She bought you anything and everything you wanted. I swear, you must've been the best dressed witch at Hogwarts. Probably England." He sighed. "Fine, take her out and have a good time. Can anybody tell you no?"

"Sergei, but that's another story entirely."

"Why'd you leave him, anyway?"

"I had my reasons."

"That's not fair, and you know it. You've never kept a secret from me. I don't keep secrets from you. I've spent the past month telling you everything that I've been through in the past fourteen years, in painful detail, and you're not going to answer a simple question?"

"That's not true, Sirius. You never told me what Gina said right before she died."

"Because some things are too painful to repeat."

"Exactly."

He put his arm around her shoulder. "He was that bad to you?"

"Worse." They sat in silence, with Isabelle's head on Sirius' shoulder. "We really should come up with some sort of plan for Harry's birthday."

"I know. Maybe we should sleep on it."

"Good thinking. How in the world am I going to get back through that window without waking up the children?" After much effort, Isabelle and Sirius managed to get back into the house.

"I thought they would never leave. This cloak is smothering," Harry said.

"Well, apparently you can afford to buy about a million of them," Ron replied.

"So?" Hermione said. "Money isn't everything."

"You can say that because your father's the richest man in the world," Ron shot back.

Hermione burst into tears. "Sure, so our family has money. You heard Papa. That's all we have."

Ron felt terrible. Why is it that I never say the right thing to Hermione? he thought. Although he was jealous of Harry and Hermione's wealth, he did feel lucky to have such a good family life. He turned to Hermione, who was crying harder, and reached out to give her a hug. She buried her head in his chest. He shot Harry a panicked look, but Harry shrugged his shoulders at him. Neither of them had any clue of what to say to her, so Ron just patted her hair awkwardly as she cried.

"Hermione, I'm sorry about what I said. I shouldn't have said it. Hey, listen to me." Hermione lifted her head. "You do have more than money. You have foster parents, who love you, and your real family, too. Didn't you hear them out there? All they were really talking about was doing the right thing by you and Harry. Don't you get it? That's why, earlier, they asked our opinion of whether or not Sirius should tell you that you are his daughter. If you had said no, they would have spent the rest of their lives keeping that secret from you. That's how much they love you, Hermione."

She smiled at Ron. "Well, when you put it that way, I guess I am pretty lucky, huh?"

"You have me for a cousin. What more luck do you need?"

She threw a pillow at Harry. "How much do Firebolts cost, anyway?"

"I'm not sure. Why?"

"So that I know how much I can spend when Isabelle and I go shopping. I really need some new stuff, since Viktor's coming to Hogwarts and everything."

"What?" Ron said, a little louder than he meant to.

"Shhhh! He's coming to help teach Potions class. I don't know how he's going to put up with Snape, though. Anyway, I really should send him an owl to tell him about what happened today." She yawned. "Let me try to sneak back to my room, so that I can send off a letter before the Daily Prophet finds out about our family, and publishes it all over the world." She tiptoed to the door, closing it quietly behind her.

Ron punched his pillow. "Why won't Krum go away?"

"You could always tell her how you feel."

"Oh, sure. The last thing she needs right now is for one of her best friends to tell her that he fancies her. She's going through enough already. I just wish it was me, not him, that she turns to, that's all. Anyway, good night."

"Night."


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

Remus Lupin quietly let himself in the back door, and walked into the kitchen. He felt fortunate that Snape, and now Isabelle, could make the wolfbane potion, but he was still very, very tired. He turned on the light, and saw a blonde mop sprawled across the bar.

"Ergh. Turn off the light," the mop mumbled. "And walk quietly, or I will hurt you just as soon as the elephants stop jumping on my head."

Remus chuckled to himself, and started making breakfast, trying to be as quiet as possible. A minute later, Sirius stumbled downstairs, and joined Isabelle at the bar, holding his head.

"Awww, did we party a little too hard last night?" Remus teased them.

"As soon as I can think clearly, I'll get you for that one," Sirius replied. "You're the potions expert, Isabelle. Can't you make something to make us feel human?"

"Why do you think I came down here? I managed to crawl to the bar, but that's as far as I got. That was an hour ago. If Remus would be so kind as to mix the ingredients, I know a good, quick potion. I created it when I was in college." She dictated ingredients, and instructions to Remus. He poured the result, a mint green goo, into two glasses and placed them on the bar with a loud thump.

"Ouch!" Sirius and Isabelle screamed together.

"Sorry, couldn't help myself."

"Belle, this looks absolutely disgusting." He plugged his nose, and downed the glass. "Tastes disgusting, too."

"Better than walking around wearing sunglasses all day," she replied, drinking her own glass. Ten minutes later, Isabelle and Sirius looked much more human.

"How was your night, Remus?" Isabelle asked him.

"Much better than your night, apparently," he replied. "I take it that things did not go well?"

"No, everything's great. We just got a little too carried away celebrating," Isabelle explained.

"How's your girl?" Remus inquired.

"She took the news quite well, actually. I was sort of surprised, really."

"And your nephew?"

"Great," Isabelle and Sirius replied together.

Remus rolled his eyes. "You people have the most oddball family tree. What's on the agenda for today?"

"Coming back from the dead," Isabelle said matter-of-factly.

"Have you decided the best way to do that?"

"Well, since some people," Sirius glared at Isabelle, "insist on going shopping, we need to go to Gringotts' bank."

"Counting on the goblins to spread the word?" Goblins are notorious for spreading gossip quickly.

"Exactly," she replied. "Oh, is Sergei going to have a fit."

"Is that a good or bad thing?" Remus asked.

"I haven't decided yet." They heard a pair of feet walking down the stairs. Hermione appeared in the doorway, and sat down at the bar in the empty stool next to Isabelle.

"Good morning, Professor Lupin," she yawned.

Remus smiled. "You don't have to call me that outside of school, you know."

"I know. I'm just happy that you're going to be teaching again." She smiled at him, and looked over at her father and Isabelle. "Um, no offense, but you two look a little rough in the morning."

"None taken," Isabelle replied. "Are Harry and Ron awake yet?"

"I don't think so. Let me go check." She ran back upstairs.

"It's frightening how much she looks like Gina," Remus said.

"Tell me about it," Sirius said. "It's a little hard to get used to. She even sounds like her sometimes."

Hermione thundered back down the stairs, with Harry and Ron in tow. "Morning," they mumbled.

"Morning," Remus said. "Ok, breakfast is ready." Everyone filled their plates with food, grabbed utensils from the drawer, and headed to the dining room. Sirius and Isabelle sat down beside each other, and immediately jumped up again.

"What's wrong?" Harry asked.

"Oh, I'm left-handed, but Sirius is right-handed, so we have to make sure to sit so that we don't bump elbows."

"Yeah, she's backwards, but not everyone's perfect." She made a face at him. Harry smiled. He couldn't help but think of how different this family breakfast was from the Dursleys. In fact, he thought, Aunt Isabelle is nothing at all like Aunt Petunia. He watched her as she and Hermione planned their shopping trip, chatting away, with Sirius rolling his eyes at the mention of Gringotts' bank.

"Well," Isabelle was saying, "tomorrow's Harry's birthday, and I need to finish lesson plans this weekend, so I'm thinking we can get some things today, and the rest next week."

"What are we doing today?" Hermione asked.

"Oh, you and I are coming back from the dead. After that, I'm thinking lunch and finding you and Harry bedroom furniture." Everyone laughed at her matter-of-fact attitude. She elbowed Sirius. "Tell them," she hissed.

He shot her an evil stare. "Much as I love dealing with the bank," Sirius said sarcastically, "we need to adjust the family vaults. I'm not sure if anyone's ever told you this, but our family–the Blacks and the Potters, that is–have a great deal of money invested in Gringotts' bank." Harry, Ron and Hermione looked at the floor, feeling guilty for spying. "A long time ago, in the early Middle Ages, there were two main banking families is what is now the United Kingdom. The Potter family controlled England and Wales, and the Black family controlled Scotland and Ireland. Do you understand me so far?" They nodded. "Sometime, I'm not sure when, the Potters and the Blacks combined their assets into one centralized wizarding bank. That bank is now Gringotts' bank in London. Well, there are actually two Gringotts' banks in London. The original bank became too small about five hundred years ago, so it handles the Potter and Black vaults only. The Evans vaults, too. The main bank handles all other accounts."

"So, who owns the bank?" Ron asked.

"No one really owns the bank, in that sense of the word. The family that has the majority of the assets has the right to run the bank. When I was growing up, the Potters and the Blacks had an equal amount of money in the bank, but the Potter family was not interested in running the bank. So, my father managed the bank."

"But, our family has the majority now," Hermione said to herself. "The Blacks, that is."

"Yes, how did you know that?" Sirius' eyes narrowed. Before she could answer, he continued. "I have no interest in running the bank, or in the money, and I speak for the Black and Potter interests until Harry turns eighteen. So, the family with the third highest amount of money in the bank runs it. Who is that now?"

"The Malfoy family," Isabelle spat. "Perhaps you should reconsider your decision."

"No, I have better things to do than count Galleons. If the Malfoys want the job, so be it."

"They are corrupt! You know how they make their money. And you are just going to–to sit there and do nothing?" Isabelle stood up and put her hands on her hips. Sirius threw his fork down on his plate, stood up, and faced her.

"What can I do about it? Running the bank won't solve anything," he thundered. They began arguing with each other at the top of their lungs, talking over each other so that no one understood a word either of them said. Harry, Ron and Hermione looked at each other nervously. Harry looked over at Remus, who was laughing.

"Psst, Harry! So, who's your money on?" he whispered. Ron and Hermione leaned in so that they could hear Harry and Remus.

"I don't know. Aunt Isabelle seems to be talking more, but Sirius has a lot of rage," Harry replied.

"I didn't say that you had to run the bank. All I'm saying is that you should keep a closer eye on the family assets," Isabelle screamed.

"I told you once, and I'll tell you again. I don't want to keep a closer eye on the money. I couldn't care less if I ever see it again. You know what? Forget going to the bank today. Money is too much trouble," shouted Sirius. Isabelle turned red from anger. Her green eyes shot fire, as the fighting became more intense.

"I really don't think Papa is going to back down."

"Let me tell you a secret about your father, Hermione," Remus whispered back. "If he and Isabelle ever have a fight, she wins. It's always been that way. She's a very good ally for you to have, trust me. Sirius wanted to bring you here from Bulgaria the day after the trial, but Isabelle wouldn't let him."

Hermione looked horrified at the thought. "Wow. Remind me to thank her for that one."

Remus chuckled. "Just watch. She'll win eventually."

"Give me one good reason why we should go to the bank today," Sirius hollered, folding his arms across his chest.

"Because you're being a jerk and you know I'm right," came the reply.

"Ok, give me another good reason."

"Because we've spent our housing allowance and are flat broke. I don't know about you, but I enjoy eating."

"Fine," Sirius said.

"Fine," Isabelle replied. They sat back down at the table, and began eating. Remus was laughing so hard that he almost fell out of his chair. "What's so funny?" she said, scowling.

"Nothing, nothing," he laughed, giving Harry, Ron and Hermione a knowing look. They smiled back.

"Alright, since we're broke, apparently, we'll go to the bank before we do anything else today, and adjust the vaults. There's already a vault for you Hermione, but there's not a lot of money in it. Just enough to keep the vault space reserved. I'm going to transfer the money from my petty cash vault into yours. Harry, your vaults are still in your parents' names, so we need to transfer the vault titles to you. After that, I'm giving the vault keys and information to Isabelle, who will manage the family finances. So, if you ever need money, go to her, ok?" Harry and Hermione nodded. "When we go to the bank, be sure not to say or do anything that you don't want put in the Daily Prophet. We can count on the goblins to spread around the wizarding world everything that they hear. As soon as we leave the bank, it will be only a matter of hours before the entire wizarding community knows about you and Isabelle. It's the easiest way for you and Isabelle to come back from the dead, as she puts it."

"Are you coming for the festivities?" Isabelle asked Remus.

He laughed. "Count me out on this one. I'm tired enough already without having to deal with the Black financial empire. A half hour in the bank is better than any sleeping potion."

Isabelle looked at the clock. "Ok, we really want to get this over with before lunch, so we're going to leave in a half hour. And, please be sure that the three of you wear something that would look decent in the newspapers?" Ron, Harry, and Hermione groaned, and walked upstairs to get ready, followed by Sirius and Isabelle.

A half hour later, everyone was showered, dressed, and ready to walk out the door. They walked through the faculty grounds into Hogsmeade, and took the Floo system to the Leaky Cauldron. Harry was the first person out of the tavern, so he opened the pathway to Diagon Alley. People stared at them, whispering, as they crossed the street.

"Papa, why do people stare at us so much?"

"For some reason, people have a fascination with either rich or famous people. Unfortunately, our family is both." They walked quietly until they reached Gringotts' bank. They walked inside the building, into a small, tastefully decorated lobby. A sign above the teller's desk read: "Gringotts' Wizarding Bank, Black and Potter Family Branch. All other customers please visit our main bank."

Sirius walked up to the goblin, and began detailing the transactions. The goblin nodded, copying down each transaction onto a large piece of parchment. Suddenly, the goblin stopped, and looked at Sirius with a curious expression.

"Forgive me, Mr. Black, but I was under the impression that your daughter is dead." He looked over to where Hermione stood, and narrowed his eyes. "Ah, but I see that I was wrong. She looks like a young version of your wife, does she not?" Sirius made no comment, so the goblin returned to writing on the parchment.

After a minute, Isabelle walked up to the teller's desk. "Countess Remizov, while you are a loyal patron of this bank, I am afraid that this branch is limited to members of the Black, Evans and Potter families only. I cannot help you here," the goblin told her.

Isabelle removed one of her vault keys, and handed it to the goblin. "I wish to transfer funds from my other vaults into this vault, which I know is kept here. And, I need all vault titles to reflect my divorce, and be registered in my former name, which is Isabelle Evans."

The goblin dropped his quill onto the floor, but picked it up quickly without comment. He wrote down the instructions, and turned to walk down the hallway. A few minutes later, the goblin returned, carrying several bags of money. Sirius picked up the bags, and quickly ushered Isabelle, Harry, Hermione, and Ron out of the bank before the rumors began spreading.

"I am so glad that is over," Harry said. For some reason, the bank gave him an uneasy feeling.

"Me, too," Isabelle and Sirius said together. They burst out laughing.

"Now, time for shopping," Isabelle said, grabbing one of the bags. She and Hermione headed off to the clothing boutiques, while Sirius, Harry, and Ron went to Quality Quiddich Supplies. They met up an hour later at the ice cream parlor, where Harry, Ron, and Hermione made up a contest to see who could count the most people who gave them funny stares. Hermione won, with seventy-three people, and one hag. They spent the rest of the afternoon looking for bedroom furniture. After eating an early dinner at the Leaky Cauldron, they took the Floo system back to Hogsmeade, and walked home.

Remus was waiting for them in the living room. "Did you leave anything in Diagon Alley?" he said, pointing to all the bags neatly stacked in the corner.

"You know how a girls' day out goes, Remus. Anyway, did the furniture arrive here, too?" Isabelle asked.

"Yep, about an hour ago."

"Good, because I have a feeling that we are not going to want to go out for a while. I can hardly wait to see tomorrow's Daily Prophet."

"Me, either," Sirius said. "I wonder how much press we're going to have this time. I say, a front page article and five pictures."

"No," Harry replied, "Definitely a front page article, six pictures, and two other articles."

Everyone chimed in with their predictions, joking and laughing about what the newspapers were going to say. After everyone finally determined that the Daily Prophet would devote an entire special edition to their family, Harry ran upstairs and got his Exploding Snap cards. Isabelle made a quick tray of drinks and snacks, and everyone went out on the patio and played cards until midnight. Although they went to bed early, no one slept well.

-----

"Do you have the cans?" 

"Are you sure this isn't mean?"

"Belle, have you lost your nerve?"

"Of course not. It just that..."

"That what? Are you chicken?" Sirius started making clucking sounds.

Isabelle frowned. "Fine. Let's do this. But, I want to go on record that this wasn't my idea." She carefully picked the lock on Harry's door, which wasn't easy, considering that it was barely daylight. Sirius and Isabelle snuck up to Harry's bed, where he was sleeping.

"Happy birthday!" they screamed together, covering him in silly string, and all kinds of liquid goo. Harry jumped up, wand in hand, but it was too late. He could barely move because of all the gelatinous mess. Ron fell to the floor, holding his stomach. Hermione came to the doorway, wondering where the noise was coming from, and began laughing too hard to speak.

"What is going on here?" Remus said sleepily, appearing through the bathroom door. He took one look at Harry and shook his head. "Oh, no, you didn't."

"Oh, yes, we did," Sirius replied. "Harry, your father started this little tradition when we were at Hogwarts. It started out with silly string that Lily would bring from home, but got worse and worse each year. I think you got off pretty lucky, myself." Harry shot daggers from his eyes at Sirius and Isabelle, but began laughing because Remus was sneaking up on them, cans raised. He attacked them from behind, coating them in red and blue silly string.

"That's not fair!" Isabelle screamed. "Traitor!"

"All's fair in love and war, my dear," Remus said, with a wicked grin, tossing cans to Ron, Harry, and Hermione. In ten minutes, everyone was covered with goo, and the room was a complete disaster.

"Boy, Fred and George are going to be mad they missed this," Ron said, looking around the room.

Harry shot Ron an evil smile. "Why? Don't you have a birthday soon?"

"Don't even think about it, Potter."

"I think it's only fair to repay favors, don't you think?"

"We've corrupted another generation," Remus said to Sirius, laughing. Harry had never had so much fun on his birthday before, and it wasn't even seven o'clock in the morning. He suddenly frowned.

"What's wrong?" Hermione asked him.

"Doesn't the Daily Prophet come soon?" Everyone groaned.

"Yes, it comes at eight o'clock," Hermione replied.

"Great," Sirius muttered to himself. "Well, there's nothing we can do about that, except deal with whatever anyone says about us," he said confidently, giving Isabelle a concerned look. It wasn't fair to drag the children into this mess, he thought. They're going through enough already without having to read about their lives in the newspaper.

"Anyway, who's up for breakfast? I think it's my turn," Isabelle said, giving the room a careless flick of her brand-new wand. The goo and string disappeared, leaving the room neat and clean. "Wands are so medieval," she said crossly to herself. Dumbledore insisted that she use a wand in front of students, so she bought one two weeks ago, trying to get back into the habit of using one before the school year started.

"I'll help," Hermione said. They walked downstairs together, talking. Fifteen minutes later, they yelled upstairs that breakfast was ready, so everyone headed downstairs. Unlike yesterday, everyone sat quietly, looking at the clock. At exactly eight o'clock, Hedwig flew in with a copy of the Daily Prophet in her beak, and dropped it in Sirius' lap.

He unfolded the newspaper as casually as possible. "Oh, no," he moaned.

"What?" everyone screamed. He turned the paper around, so that the headline was visible. "Special Edition," the headline read in two-inch tall letters. "Missing Girls Found Alive." Sirius flipped through the pages. Every single article and picture was devoted to at least one family member.

"I guess we were right," Harry said in a small voice.

Remus shook his head in disbelief. "Isn't there anything else to talk about?"

"I guess not," Isabelle said, flipping to the second page. "For pity's sake! They even have our family tree in here. Is nothing sacred?"

"If you think that's bad, look at this," Sirius told her, turning the page. It was a timeline detailing every event in recent family history.

"How did they find all of this information? They even know my assumed name, when I graduated from high school and college, and joined the ballet. Look at this–they have my wedding date, date of separation, and date of divorce."

"I didn't know you left Sergei the day I escaped from Azkaban."

"Coincidence, huh? It looks kind of bad, the way they put it, though." Isabelle read the next line, and turned white. "Please excuse me for a minute," she said, walking upstairs to her room.

Sirius scanned the date, and read the next line. "Katrina Victoria Remizov, the only child born to the Remizov marriage, dies eight days after being born prematurely." Isabelle was a mother? The idea shocked him. He quietly passed Hermione the newspaper, and walked upstairs. He knocked on her door, which was cracked slightly.

She was in a crumpled heap on the bed, crying softly. He walked over to the bed, and sat down on the edge. "She was really beautiful, Sirius. So incredibly tiny, with dark hair, but my green eyes. After she was born, the doctors told us that she wouldn't make it. She was just born too soon, and the doctors could do nothing for her. So, I just held her in my arms, and sang to her until the very end. It soothed her to hear my voice, but it was so hard to keep singing while your whole world is ending." Her voice broke off.

"I know," he told her, remembering another deathbed, many years ago. Isabelle looked in his eyes, and realized that he did know how she felt. "When Regina was dying, she became delusional and hysterical towards the end. James couldn't take it, so he left first. A few minutes after that, Grace started fussing in the other room, so Lily left to check on you and her. Regina had a few lucid moments, and in one of them, she asked me to sing. I don't know how I did it, but I kept singing until she was gone." He shook his head, trying to force the memories back. "I wish I could have been there for you, Belle."

They sat on the bed, quietly. Isabelle sat up, reached for a tissue, and blew her nose. "Enough of the past," she said firmly. "You know what I want to do with that newspaper?"

"The same thing I do. Burn it." They walked downstairs together, where everyone was in the living room, watching the fireplace.

"I hope you don't mind, but we couldn't stand the thought of this trash being in our home. So, we burned it," Hermione said gleefully.

Sirius laughed. "We came down here with the exact same idea. Now, what would you like to do today?"

"We were just talking about that. Since Aunt Isabelle hasn't been to Hogwarts in about a million years," Isabelle rolled her eyes, "we want to give her a tour. After that, we want to play Quiddich. Well, Ron and I do," Harry said.

They set off for the main castle, Harry, Ron, and Hermione leading the way. They pulled Isabelle around in all directions, fighting over where to take her next. She saw Gryffindor Tower, which hadn't changed much when she was a student, the Great Hall, and several classrooms. As they walked down a hallway, Isabelle suddenly stopped.

"Is that still the prefects' bathroom?" she said, pointing.

"It was when I was a student, why?" Sirius answered.

"No reason," she said with a wicked grin. Remus gave her a questioning look. "I'll tell you later," she whispered.

"Tell him what? I know you weren't a prefect. In fact, with your disciplinary record, you're lucky you weren't expelled. So, how would you have known about the prefects' bathroom?" Sirius glared at her.

"Don't get all paternal on me. I just had a little fun there once or twice, that's all," she said archly.

"Does that have anything to do with that month's worth of detention?"

"Nope. That was another time," she said, walking down the hallway.

"What time was that?" Sirius hollered after her.

"Wouldn't you like to know?" came the reply. "Besides, how did you know about the prefects' bathroom, yourself? You certainly weren't a prefect." Sirius turned five shades of red, and stormed down the hallway. Harry looked at Hermione, and busted out laughing. Life was definitely more interesting with Isabelle around, he thought.

They walked back onto the grounds, and onto the Quiddich pitch. Harry got some spare brooms, and the balls from the equipment shed. Even Hermione played along, as they tossed the quaffle back and forth, dodging bludgers that Remus kept batting towards them. They played until it was too dark to see, and walked home, nursing sore muscles. Isabelle was limping slightly.

"What, can't handle playing a real sport, ballerina?" Remus teased, barely dodging a jelly-legs jinx she shot back at him.

After everyone showered and changed, the adults cooked dinner while the children talked outside on the patio. Harry couldn't believe the amount of food on the dinner table, and how quickly it disappeared. Sirius went into the kitchen, and returned with a massive birthday cake.

"Nicked it from the house elves," he whispered in Isabelle's ear, lighting the candles. Before she could respond, he quickly led the singing of "Happy Birthday" to distract her. He knew that she loved to sing, and hoped that it would diffuse her anger. He didn't see what a big deal it was to get food from the house elves, anyway.

"I didn't know all of you can sing," Hermione said.

"Just call us the singing von Trapp family," Isabelle laughed.

"Could my parents sing, too?" Harry asked.

"Only if you enjoy hearing fingernails going down a blackboard," Isabelle replied. "They were a good dancers, though. Lily and James used to throw parties, and I would watch them dance all night from my bedroom window. Tell you what, Harry. I'll tell you anything you want to know about our family. Ask away."

"What about me?" Hermione begged.

"It depends on the question," she said, cutting cake and passing the pieces around the table. She smiled sweetly at Sirius, who looked horrified. If he thought that he would get off that easy for nicking the cake, he was terribly mistaken.

"I'm thinking, Hermione. You go first," Harry said.

"What is Potter hair?" she asked.

"Potter hair has the unusual quality of never lying flat, or looking neat. Gina used to charm her hair flat. She started doing that after your father asked if she got caught in a lightening storm during their third year at Hogwarts. He was always teasing her like that."

"How did my mother know Papa fancied her, then?"

"She didn't. Can I tell the story, Sirius?" She flashed him an incredibly wicked grin. This was exactly the question she wanted to hear.

"You're going to tell her anyway, aren't you?" Of all of the stories to tell my daughter, he thought, she just has to tell this one.

"Well, yes. Anyway, James, Gina, and Sirius all grew up together. Sirius lived next door to the Potter twins, and was over there all of the time. Your father fell madly in love with your mother around the age of five, but he didn't want James to know that. So, he teased Gina constantly. When they first went to Hogwarts, James, Sirius, and a bunch of their friends were sitting at the lunch table when Lily and Gina walked by. Some friend of James' made a crude comment about what he'd like to do with Gina Potter, so James beat the living daylights out of him. After that, most guys were scared to talk to Gina because they were afraid of what James would do to them. So, whenever a dance would come up, James would ask Lily, and Remus would ask his flavor of the month, but Sirius would never ask anyone. He always waited for Gina to walk around, sad because she didn't have a date, and then he would play the knight in shining armor. Naturally, all the other guys were scared to even dance with her, so Sirius got to spend all night dancing with her, which is exactly how he wanted things to be in the first place. Time went on, and they graduated, and moved into the house at Dover with me."

"And?" Harry asked.

"And your father proposed to Lily that Christmas, which sent the house into a wedding frenzy. After they got married, and came back from their honeymoon, Gina became very depressed. She was the shy type, anyway, but she became very withdrawn. One day, at dinner, she burst into tears. James asked her what was wrong. She said something about being alone for the rest of her life, and ran upstairs. Lily ran up the stairs after her. So, there I was, with James, Sirius and Remus. James asked what did he say that was so horrible that it made his sister run away in tears. Sirius dropped his fork, and walked out of the kitchen. Not a good scene."

"You're not kidding," Remus said. "At least you had the good sense to leave. I was stuck with James in a rotten mood for the rest of the night."

"No offense, Hermione, but you get that bursting into tears thing from your mother," Ron told her. She scowled at him, but knew it was true.

"Anyway, I went to my fort, where I was pretty sure I could find Sirius. Sure enough, he was there, staring out into the water. I sat down beside him for a minute, and realized that he fancied Gina. So, I asked him why he hasn't told her the way he feels about her. He asked me why he should take romantic advice from an eleven year old, and I said because eleven year olds don't make things unnecessarily complicated. I guess he realized the wisdom of my advice, because he went looking for her. He found her in the garden, and believe me, Hermione, your father can be quite charming and romantic when he wants to be."

"Please don't tell me that noise in the tree was you." She grinned. "Why am I not surprised, you little spy?" Sirius said, blushing. This was getting more embarrassing by the second, he thought. He knew what was coming next, and wished that the floor would open and swallow him whole.

"Ok, this is the best part. Sirius comes in the kitchen with Gina, and kisses her. What he doesn't realize is that James heard the door close, and walked in the kitchen to apologize to Gina for whatever he said that made her cry. So, he saw the whole thing."

"What happened then?" Harry asked.

"James snapped at Gina, so Sirius yelled something back at James, and before you know it, they are fighting. And I mean fighting. Lily ran downstairs and tried to pull James off Sirius, but it didn't work. They just kept swinging at each other, saying things that aren't nice to repeat. Finally, they just looked at each other and started laughing at how bad the other one looked."

"James looked a lot worse than me."

"Yeah, right," Isabelle said. "Anyway, have you thought of anything, Harry?"

Harry looked over at Sirius, who was shaking his head no desperately. "Um," he laughed, "I think Sirius has had enough storytelling for one night."

"Papa, no fair," Hermione pleaded. "Please?"

Two days, and she's already figured out what a pushover I am, he thought. But, no amount of begging would be enough to let Isabelle embarrass him any more for one night. At this rate, his face would be red permanently. "Not tonight, ok? It's getting late, and it would be nice to let Harry open his presents on his birthday," Sirius said, hoping to distract his daughter.

It worked. Harry looked over at his presents, and couldn't believe that pile was for him. The pile looked like it belonged at one of Dudley's birthday parties, not his. Grinning, Harry tore into the packages.

"Glad to see that you didn't go overboard," Isabelle hissed to Sirius sarcastically.

"Likewise," he replied, as Harry unwrapped the last present–a book of different Quiddich strategies. The clock chimed midnight, so Sirius sent the children upstairs to bed. It was a bit early for summertime, but he didn't want to run the risk of Isabelle telling any more stories.

"I'll get you back," he told her.

"Bring it on," came the reply. "For you to get good blackmail on me, you have to ask Snape, and I know you'll never talk to him willingly." Sirius narrowed his eyes, and stomped upstairs, knowing she was right.

"So," asked Remus, "are you going to tell me about what you did with the Marauder's map, or not?"

"Let's go into the living room." They sat down on the sofa, feet propped on the ottoman. "Ok, there was this Ravenclaw prefect, Andrew Patil, who I had the biggest crush on. He asked me to the Yule Ball that year, and we kept seeing each other after that. Well, I'd sneak out of my dorm with the map, and meet him at his dorm. Then, we'd go somewhere a little more private."

"Like the prefects' bathroom?"

"Exactly, but that didn't work for long, because Moaning Myrtle would come around. So, we would meet in the astronomy tower after that. Well, one night we weren't paying attention and got caught, in a rather uncompromising position, by Filch and his stupid cat. He took the map, and marched Andrew to Flitwick's office, and me to McGonagall. Of course, she took a bunch of points of Gryffindor, and lectured me about my behavior. Then, she said she would have to write a letter to Lily."

"Ouch."

"Tell me about it. I begged her not to write Lily. I told her I would do anything, as long as she didn't write home. McGonagall was not impressed, and said that she was sure that Lily would take care of the matter in an appropriate way. I said that I wasn't afraid of how my sister would react. I was afraid of what James and Sirius would do or say if they found out I was caught in the middle of the night with a boy. I told her that I was as good as dead. She said that I should have thought of that before sneaking out of my dorm."

"Sounds like something McGonagall would say," Remus laughed.

"I know. She gets out a quill and a piece of parchment, and I start pleading with her again. I reminded her of how bad James' and Sirius' tempers were, and worse than their anger even, was that they would be disappointed in me. I must have looked pathetic, because McGonagall tore up the parchment, and ordered me to a month's worth of detention."

"I think you owe McGonagall your life," came a voice behind them. Isabelle jumped, and slowly turned around. I'm thirty years old, she thought. I'm a grown woman. Why does that tone of voice still strike fear in my heart? Sirius' eyes were grey steel. He stared her down for a minute, and started laughing. "Glad to know I still have it."

She threw a pillow at him. "That was so not funny."

"What? It's been a long time since I've raised a teenage girl. I just wanted to make sure that look was still effective. I told you that I'd get you back for your little story time at dinner."


	6. Chapter 6

__**Chapter 6**

_Several weeks later..._

"Do I look ok?"

"Why are you so nervous?"

"Because I haven't been in a classroom setting since I student taught in college," Isabelle said, hurrying down the hallway. "Not that I really consider that dungeon a proper classroom, anyway." The entrance hall was filled with nervous, chattering first-year students. "Oh, good. I thought we were late."

Harry looked up from the Gryffindor dining table, and saw Isabelle and Snape walk in together, lost in conversation. He remembered for the first time that his aunt was at Sirius' trial with Snape. I wonder what the connection is between the two of them? he puzzled.

Halfway through the Great Hall on their way to the faculty table, Isabelle stopped dead in her tracks, right in front of Harry. Snape nearly ran over her, and muttered something, but she didn't hear him. She was focused on a tall, blonde man standing across the table.

"Andrew Patil?" she whispered.

The man looked up. "Isabelle Evans?"

She nodded. "Do you remember me from school?"

"How could I forget?" He grinned.

"What are you doing here?"

"Well, after I left school, I became a charm breaker for Gringotts' bank. Dumbledore asked me to come help with practical applications of the Ancient Runes class, so I took a leave of absence to teach. What are you doing here?"

"Same thing. Well, not the same thing, but teaching. Wow," she breathed. "I never thought I'd see you again."

"I never thought I'd see you again, either."

Harry, Ron and Hermione looked up at Isabelle and this Andrew person staring at each other, moony eyed. Isabelle started making shooing motions behind her back at Snape. He cleared his throat to say something, but turned around and walked to the faculty table. After a minute of staring at each other, they must have realized that other people were in the room, because they both looked away, embarrassed.

"Um, Isabelle, this is one of my nieces, Parvati." He pointed to the pretty girl seated in front of him. "My other niece, Padma, is in the Ravenclaw house."

"Just like you, huh? Oh, this is my nephew, Harry." Harry and Parvati rolled their eyes at each other. What was going on here? After a minute, Professor McGonagall announced that the sorting was about to start, so Isabelle and Andrew quickly took spaces at the faculty table. They were so engrossed in conversation that they did not notice that the sorting ceremony had finished until Professor Dumbledore stood up to make the yearly announcements.

"Good evening, professors and students. Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts. Before we begin tonight's feast, I would like to make a few announcements. First, the banners in the Great Hall will remain black throughout the school year, as a memorial to Cedric Diggory." Many students sniffled as murmuring erupted throughout the hall. Dumbledore held up his hand for silence. "Also, I would like to remind students that the Forbidden Forest is completely off limits to all students, and will be strictly enforced, considering today's dark times. On a lighter note, I would like to welcome many new faculty members to Hogwarts. For many required classes, I have asked additional witches and wizards to team-teach subjects with our existing teachers. You are to give all faculty members the same amount of respect and courtesy, no matter what their age or reputation is. Assisting with charms class is Fleur Delacour. Since Hagrid is still on a leave of absence, Charlie Weasley will teach Care of Magical Creatures class. Andrew Patil will help teach Ancient Runes, and Remus Lupin and Arabella Figg will teach Defense Against the Dark Arts. Viktor Krum will serve as a teaching assistant to Isabelle Evans, who will team teach Potions with Professor Snape. Professor Evans will also teach Muggle Studies. Finally, Sirius Black will assist with Transfiguration class."

As soon as Dumbledore mentioned Sirius Black, all eyes in the Great Hall turned to Hermione, who stared down at the table. Harry smiled at her in support.

"Don't worry, you'll get used to it," he said reassuringly.

"I hope so," she replied.

Professor Dumbledore continued. "Before schedules are passed out tomorrow, I need to explain a new policy. Some students have been selected by the faculty to participate in an advanced magic program. The selected students have had their schedules altered to include an additional seminar. Because we wish those students to remain anonymous, no student is permitted to discuss whether he or she has been selected. Doing so breaks wizarding law, and will be punished accordingly. Thank you." He made a gesture with his hands, and food magically appeared on the tables.

"What do you think that seminar is all about?" Ron asked.

"I have no idea," Hermione replied.

Across the room, Sirius and Remus stared at Isabelle flirting with a tall, blonde man at the other end of the faculty table.

"Is that the same Andrew Patil that almost got her kicked out of Hogwarts?" Sirius asked Remus, shaking his head in disbelief.

"The very same."

"Excuse me, Professor Black, is it?" came a heavy French accent from Sirius' left. He looked over at the young blonde witch. "Do you know that woman over there?" she asked, pointing to Isabelle.

"Yes, I do. Why do you ask?" he inquired.

"Is she the same woman who danced with the Remizov ballet company?" He nodded. The young witch burst into a grin, and jumped up. "Isabelle!" she hollered across the table.

She looked up, and saw the blonde witch waving at her. "Fleur!" she yelled back, running over to her and giving her a huge hug. They started talking wildly in French. After a few minutes, she turned to Sirius and Remus, who were looking as if she had lost her mind. "Sirius, Remus, this is Fleur Delacour. She was my best student at the ballet."

"Only because I had the best teacher." They smiled at each other, and began speaking in French again. Fleur walked with Isabelle back to the other end of the table, where they continued eating dinner.

A few minutes later, Hermione walked up to them, with Viktor Krum in tow. "Papa, I'd like for you to meet Viktor," she said.

Sirius looked up, and saw Isabelle glaring at him from across the table, mouthing "Be nice". I don't want to be nice, he thought. What I'd like to do is ask him why he's so interested in a fifteen-year old. Then, I'd like to threaten his life if he does anything to hurt my little girl. But, he looked at the hopeful expression on his daughter's face, and melted. "Nice to meet you," he said, shaking Viktor's hand. Pushover, he thought to himself, as Hermione smiled happily.

"I'll see you tomorrow in class, ok?" she told him, giving him a hug.

"Have fun tonight," he called after her. Not too much fun, though, he thought, standing up from the table.

He and Remus walked home, discussing various lesson plans. An hour later, Isabelle burst in the living room, grinning from ear to ear. She fell dramatically on a living room chair.

"What a night!" she breathed to no one in particular. After daydreaming for a minute, she went to the kitchen and came back with a glass of water in her hand.

"Isabelle, I don't want to interrupt your daydream or anything, but..." Sirius realized that she was paying zero attention to him. "Isabelle Rose!" he thundered.

She jerked up. "What?"

"I need to talk to you about the seminar."

"What about it?" she asked.

"Well, I thought we had decided on a class of thirteen, but I was reading the roster, and there are fourteen students. Do you know why?"

She looked a little guilty. "I added a student at the last minute."

"I know. Neville Longbottom," he sputtered angrily.

"He's from a very talented family," she said defensively.

"He's one of the worst students in his class! This is supposed to be an advanced seminar."

"Kids react in different ways to problems in their lives. You're used to children like Hermione and myself, who become over achievers because they feel like they have to prove themselves. Some kids, like Neville, become under achievers. I really think he has the raw talent to be in this seminar. Trust me on this one, Sirius."

"I don't have a choice. The schedules are printed already."

"I agree with Isabelle," Remus said. "Neville has self-confidence problems, not talent problems. I think he would be an excellent wizard if he believed in himself. And if Snape didn't belittle him constantly."

"Snape's just frustrated, because Neville doesn't work to his potential," Isabelle said.

"Why are you defending him?" Sirius snapped.

"For the exact same reason that I've defended you to him for the past fourteen years. Because I care about him. He's been my only family for half of my life, and he's good to me. He always has been."

"Fine. I'd like to hear about this softer side of Snape, wouldn't you, Remus?"

"I am actually a little curious, Isabelle."

"Fine. Let me start at the beginning, when he rescued Grace and I from the Death Eaters. After everything went down that night, and you were sent to Azkaban, well, there was nowhere for me to go. There was also nowhere for Snape to go, either, because no one would hire a known Death Eater. So, Dumbledore made him a deal. If he would take me to America, and ensure that I became a fully qualified witch, he would ensure Snape a job at Hogwarts after I passed my N.E.W.T.'s. He took Gracie to the Grangers, and we set off for America."

"Sounds like a mercenary to me."

"I thought so, too, at first. He did let me go to James and Lily's funerals, although I had to stand in the far back, away from everyone else. After everyone left, I walked to their graves, and had a complete breakdown. It just didn't seem real until that moment. Everyone I loved – they were all gone forever. At least I thought so at the time. I remember what Snape said then. He said that if you really loved someone, they were always there with you, no matter where you were. That was comforting, considering that I was leaving everything I knew for a foreign country. With a stranger that I knew that neither you nor James liked. So, I boarded my very first plane, and flew to Williamsburg, Virginia."

"Isn't Williamsburg the center of wizarding activities in America?" Remus asked.

"Yes, because it was the earliest wizarding settlement. The Salem settlement was founded right around that time, but the Virginia wizarding community wasn't repressed like the Salem community was. He figured that we would have an easier transition into American society in a large wizarding community. And perhaps Snape could find a job. Anyway, Snape made up this whole identity for me–birth certificates, social security numbers, driver's license–the whole works. I became pure-blood Isabelle Randolph because Virginia society is worse than Slytherins when it comes to discriminating against Muggle-borns like myself. He registered me in the Spotswood Academy for the upcoming school year."

"The Spotswood Academy? The incredibly prestigious one?" Sirius whistled.

"That one. So, I started my sixth year at Spotswood. On the very first day, all anyone talked about was what had happened to our family over the past month. About how Harry was the only one who lived. When someone said something horrible about you, Sirius, I would burst into tears, and run out of the classroom. The office would call Snape, and he would pick me up from school. After two weeks of this, he pulled me out of school entirely."

"How did you become a qualified witch, then?"

"I'm getting to that part, Sirius. Patience is not your strong point, is it? By that time, Snape hadn't gotten a job anywhere, and I wasn't learning a thing in school. One day, he came home, and I was staring at a map of America. He asked me why I was staring at a map, and I said because until we came to Williamsburg, I had only been to Dover, London, Sheffield, and Hogwarts. I wanted to travel. So, Snape bought a car, and we set off to see America, hoping that things would be cooled off by the time we got back. Just imagine a sixteen-year old with Snape, who was twenty-seven. It was wild. If you ever want to get to know someone, go on a road trip with them. In the beginning, the only thing we had in common was that we liked to travel. But, as the year passed, we really began to get along. Especially since he let me drive the Corvette. That thing flew. It still does."

"So, did you go back to Spotswood?"

"Nope, Remus, I didn't. When we got back to Williamsburg, Snape gave me two options. One was to go back to Spotswood. The other was to enroll in the local Muggle high school, and have him tutor me at night. Well, I couldn't be a part of a wizarding community that condemned an innocent man, so I started Muggle high school that fall. I remember how nervous I was that first day. But, as soon as I walked through the door, I felt at home. I was always out with friends, and Snape never cared how many of them came over, or how loud they were. Just as long as I got all of my work done. He surprised me with a portkey to the Julliard School of Dance in New York City so that I could keep dancing. I graduated from high school, then took my N.E.W.T.'s so that I could get my degree from Hogwarts. Snape and I worked so hard to bring me to the level that I would've been if I had stayed at Hogwarts. You know what? I had higher marks than the head girl that year, but didn't get any credit for it. I'm still mad about that. So, I went to Muggle college, and Snape came here. But, he always came to see me if I ever needed him. Which proves that he's not a heartless mercenary."

"How often was that?"

"Well, at least every Christmas and Easter holiday. Oh, and he always took me on a vacation for my birthday. Every year since our first road trip, he's taken me somewhere. When I turned twenty-one, we went to Las Vegas and gambled all night. We charmed the machines and made a fortune," she finished, laughing.

"Where did he take you this year?"

"He took me to you, Sirius."

"Oh," he said lamely.

"Oh, is right. I thought we were going to Tahiti. There's always next year, I guess." She flashed him a wicked grin, and headed upstairs for bed.

-----

Hermione woke up early, quietly dressed, and slipped off to the Great Hall for breakfast before the rest of the students woke up. The endless staring and whispering unnerved her, and she just wanted to be alone before people started asking questions again. Tears stung her eyes as she buttered a piece of toast. She took a bite out of the toast, and chewed it thoughtfully. What she really wanted was her mother. While she loved her father, and had become quite close with him over the past month, it just wasn't the same. A single tear ran down her cheek. 

"I know toast is awful, but it's nothing to cry over." She looked up at Isabelle, who was holding a rectangular box. "The first day is always rough, isn't it?"

Hermione nodded. "What's that?" she asked quietly.

"Heaven in a box. I got up early and walked over to Hogsmeade, where I disapperated back home to Virginia. These are Krispy Kreme doughnuts. Usually, I just get plain glazed, but I figured that we'd need some chocolate icing for fortitude."

"How'd you know I'd be here?"

"Lucky guess." Guesswork, my foot, Isabelle thought. She's so much like her father that it scares me–when upset, go off somewhere to brood over it.

Four doughnuts later each, Hermione smiled. They really were incredible, and her nerves had calmed considerably. By that time, the Great Hall was filled with chattering students, anxiously awaiting their schedules to see if they had been selected for the special seminar. Harry and Ron plopped down across the table from Hermione and Isabelle, and eyed the doughnuts hungrily. Isabelle passed them the box, which became empty in short order.

"Excuse me, Professor Evans?" She looked up at two identical redheads. "I'm Fred Weasley, and this is my brother George. We're Ron's brothers, and just wanted to let you know that the Marauder's Map hasn't gone to waste all of these years."

"Really," Isabelle drawled. "Did you nick it?" Identical evil grins spread over their faces. "Ok, sit. You have to tell me what mischief you created with it." Fred and George began an animated description of all the pranks they pulled throughout the years, making Isabelle laugh hysterically. In the middle of telling her about the time that they snuck into the Slytherin common room and removed all the furniture, Professor McGonagall reached their part of the table, and distributed schedules.

Ron and Harry opened their schedules first. "Ugh," Harry said. "Potions with the Slytherins first thing." He scanned the schedule, seeing nothing out of the ordinary, except for the unusual amount of professors listed. A minute later, a line appeared at the very bottom – "Advanced Magic Seminar, Tuesday, 6:00 p.m.-8:00 p.m., Classroom 10-A, Professors Black and Evans." Just as quickly as the line appeared, it vanished without a trace. Harry looked up, and several students were staring at their schedules oddly.

"What's wrong?" Isabelle asked them, with a bit of amusement. After all, she and Sirius did hand-pick the class themselves, so she knew exactly why they had funny looks on their faces.

"Uh, nothing," Ron swallowed. "Just not looking forward to having Divination after lunch. It's hard enough to stay awake as it is."

"Ooooh, the inner eye, it is a rare gift indeed," Isabelle said in a spooky voice. "Trelawney told me that she's never seen a student less gifted in Divination. She said that after I told her she was a crock."

"Well, I guess we share the honors, then, because she said the exact same thing to me," Hermione said, laughing. She looked over at Isabelle, thinking about how nice it was for her to bring her breakfast.

"I heard an ugly rumor that you got Krispy Kreme this morning, and didn't save me a doughnut."

"Sorry, Sirius. You snooze, you lose," Isabelle said, smiling at the look of mock hurt on his face.

"Ready for class this morning?" Sirius asked Hermione.

She was so lost in thought that it was a minute before she realized that she was supposed to be answering a question. "Oh, yes, totally ready," she said distractedly. She studied her father critically as he chatted with Isabelle, giving her a crooked, boyish grin. Before she arrived in our lives, Hermione realized, my father rarely smiled, or took any interest in himself. There was little resemblance between the worn, broken man two months ago and the smiling, self-assured person standing beside her. And that most of the credit of the changes in her father's life were thanks to Isabelle. In fact, it was really her strength that brought the family together. She eyed Isabelle with a new-found respect as she stood from the table.

"Well, I'm off to the dungeon," Isabelle said, hurrying out of the Great Hall.

A few minutes later, Hermione stood from the table with the excuse of stopping by the library before class. But, she headed to the dungeon, hoping to see Viktor for a minute before class began. As she approached the doorway, she heard two voices, arguing.

"I don't see why I have to be here. You're not leaving me, so there's no need for me to know how your class works because I'll never have to teach it by myself."

"Stop being irrational. You know, as well as I do--"

"You're not going to them." The female voice became wobbly. "Please tell me that you're not going to them."

"I have to." Snape's voice said hollowly.

"When?" Isabelle sounded as if she was on the brink of tears. Hermione flattened herself against the wall, not wanting to be caught eavesdropping on this conversation.

"Halloween."

Hermione looked up as Viktor rounded the corner. He couldn't stop staring at her. She looked so different than when she visited him this summer. Not that she wasn't pretty before, but she was absolutely beautiful now. The once-bushy hair was flat, and framed her face perfectly. And those eyes – those huge grey-brown eyes surrounded by what seemed like hundreds of lashes. She smiled at him as he walked up to her, and his stomach flipped.

"Good morning, Professor," she said coyly, her grin widening.

He was at a total loss for words. "Morning," he managed to choke out. By this time, students began to fill the hallway, filing into the dungeon classroom. A minute later, they walked into the dungeon, Hermione saving seats for Harry and Ron, and Viktor walking to the front, where he began talking to Snape and Isabelle.

"Of all the classes to start the year off with, we get stuck with this one," Ron complained, sitting down and giving Draco Malfoy an evil look. Not that Draco noticed, because he and every other boy in the classroom were gawking at Isabelle.

"I don't think it's all that bad," Hermione said dreamily. Ron rolled his eyes.

Harry looked at the front of the classroom, as Snape gave him his usual look of loathing. Apparently, whatever connection he had to Isabelle did not make him feel any better towards Harry. This was going to be a long year.

"Good morning, Mr. Potter. I trust that you won't expect any special treatment in this class, although your aunt is my assistant professor. Pity you don't share her talent at potion making," he said through narrowed eyes. "And, you, Miss Black," he practically spat the last word, "please keep your hormones in check during my class."

Hermione clenched her teeth together in anger, as Snape walked back to the front of the room. "At least I have use for my hormones, unlike you, you slimy git," she muttered underneath her breath.

A voice sighed behind their table. "Five points from Gryffindor, for your cheek." Harry, Ron, and Hermione whipped around in disbelief. Did Isabelle just defend Snape, and take away house points? From her own house? Her eyes were kind, but she spoke firmly. "You do not insult a professor, Hermione, no matter how much he deserves it. Also, you should not make a judgment about a person's private life. And, if you choose to do either, at least look around you to make sure a professor isn't listening."

"Alright," she continued, loudly so the entire classroom could hear, "welcome back, class. For this week, and next, I am your primary teacher. Feel free to ask Professor Snape, Krum, or myself if you have any questions with the lessons." She turned to the desk, picked up a stack of papers, and began passing the copies around the class. "This is today's potion. After you are finished, please leave your cauldrons on your desk, so that it can be disposed of properly. Once you receive your assignment, you may begin."

Snape picked up a piece of paper, and ran his finger down the list of ingredients and directions. Once he realized what the potion was for, he had to turn away from the class so that they didn't see him laughing. Isabelle saw the look on his face, and walked over to where he was standing.

"What? I think it's a rather useful potion, myself," she said, defensively.

"I don't doubt that. Only you would teach a room full of teenagers how to cure themselves from the effects of drinking a little too much. I assume that you have plans to dispose of their efforts personally?" he said with a smirk.

"Absolutely. Can't waste a good potion, Severus. You taught me that."

Across the room, Harry watched Hermione angrily chop her herbs into tiny pieces. She couldn't decide what made her more irate–Snape's comment, or the way Isabelle defended him. It was simply disloyal. Everyone knew that Snape did not get along with the Blacks or the Potters. She dumped water into her cauldron, and stirred, brooding.

"What's the matter, mudblood?" Draco whispered so that only Hermione, Ron and Harry could hear.

"She is not a mudblood," Harry said through clenched teeth. "Not that being Muggle-born is insulting, anyway."

"Isn't that sweet? Being defended by your ex-boyfriend. I mean, your cousin. Isn't that ironic – just as soon as Krum steals her, you find out that you're related. You Potters are a sick lot. Maybe that's why you keep dying off. It's only a matter of time before both of you join the rest of your pathetic family, in Blandford Cemetery. I told you--" Harry interrupted Draco's words with a crushing blow to the face.

Isabelle and Snape turned around, their eyes widening at the fight in front of them. Snape took a step to break up the fight, but quickly stepped back after receiving an accidental punch to the nose.

"He's your nephew. You handle it," he said, trying to stop the bleeding of his nose. By this time, the entire classroom was in an uproar. Isabelle shouted a barely audible incantation, and Harry and Draco immediately stopped, unable to move. She didn't know what to say. On the one hand, she was a professor, and it was her duty to punish bad behavior accordingly. But, she remembered many unpleasant evenings with the Malfoy family during her marriage, and really enjoyed seeing her nephew give Draco a piece of his own medicine. Snape sensed her indecision, so he began to speak.

"I have never seen such an utter lack of manners and decorum in a classroom," he began coldly. "One hundred points from Gryffindor and two weeks of detention, Mr. Potter. As for you, Mr. Malfoy, I expected better of a student from my own house. Seventy-five points from Slytherin, and two weeks of detention. Please return to your assignment." Both Harry and Draco were still livid, but returned to their cauldrons.

"Oh, and Mr. Malfoy," Isabelle said in an icy tone. "Fifty points from Slytherin for insulting my family. If I ever hear another derogatory comment about any member of my family come out of your mouth, trust me, the consequences will be much more severe. Do I make myself clear?" Draco turned white and nodded. How could she possibly have heard what he had said? "Go to the hospital wing, both of you. Report for detention tonight at 8:00." They limped out of the classroom, as the lesson continued uneventfully until the bell rang.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

Harry walked into Defense Against the Dark Arts class five minutes late, and took the last seat in the back corner. He was still angry about what Draco had said in Potions class, and if he had it to do all over again, the two weeks of detention would still be worth it. Professor Lupin was still calling the roll, so at least he wasn't missed.

"Harry Potter?"

"Here," he mumbled. The class started murmuring to each other.

Remus looked up. It was easy to figure out why the class was so interested in Harry's presence in class. His nose was red and swollen, and he had several small cuts on one cheek that Madame Pomfrey couldn't get to heal quite right.

"Eventful Potions class?" he asked Harry.

"Very," he replied.

"What happened?" asked Professor Figg, giving Harry a concerned look.

"Harry got in a fight with Draco Malfoy. And Professor Evans gave him detention," Lavender Brown said in a rush.

"No, that was Professor Snape. Professor Evans took points off Slytherin," Dean Thomas corrected her.

"And Gryffindor," Parvati Patil added, giving Hermione a mean stare. "Between the two of you, Gryffindor lost one hundred and five points in one class."

"Well, Slytherin lost one hundred and twenty-five points, so we came out ahead," Ron said, defending Harry and Hermione.

"Ok, enough!" Professor Lupin said, holding up his hands for silence. The class immediately quieted down. "I get the idea."

"I know all of you know Professor Lupin, so let me introduce myself," Mrs. Figg began. "I am Professor Figg. As you know, this is Defense Against the Dark Arts class. Your full attention is incredibly important in this class, especially since Lord Voldemort has risen to power again." Many students winced at the sound of his name.

"Will you be teaching us Dark Magic?" Seamus blurted out.

"No," came the firm reply. "We will teach you everything you need to know to fight Dark Magic, without learning it yourselves. Once you know the Dark Arts, it is too tempting to use them against people," Professor Figg explained.

"Do you know the Dark Arts?" Neville asked, somewhat nervously.

"Professor Figg and I have an extensive knowledge of Dark Magic, and know how to recognize the Dark Arts, but we do not know how to perform the spells. Only those in Lord Voldemort's inner circle know those spells." Remus was impressed by the students' questioning, so he decided to let Parvati ask her question.

"Do you know anyone who can perform the Dark spells who isn't a Death Eater?"

"Honestly, Parvati, I do." The class gasped. "I know one wizard, and one witch, who know how to perform Dark spells. But, that knowledge comes with a price. Neither of them has a good reputation in the wizarding community, not even among other Dark wizards. No one trusts them completely, because there's always a chance that they are double agents. The best thing to do when dealing with the Dark Arts is to know enough to recognize them, defend yourself against them in a fight, and stay away from them otherwise."

Harry sat, puzzled. He figured that the Dark wizard was Snape, but who could Professor Lupin possibly know that was a Dark witch? He looked at Ron, and could tell that he was thinking the same thing.

"For the next few weeks, we will be doing a unit on the Forbidden Forest. In the event that any of you are ever stranded there, you will need to know what creatures you will come up against, and how to fight them. Let me clearly state that none of you are to go into the Forbidden Forest under any circumstances. Some of the most dangerous creatures in the world live there," Professor Figg announced.

"For those of you taking Care of Magical Creatures, this unit will overlap what you will be doing in that class. Professor Weasley," Ron snickered loudly, "will show you many of the creatures that we will study. Because of the danger involved, we will not be able to give you practice defending yourselves against most of the creatures. The first animal we will study is the Acromantula, which is a massive spider capable of human speech." Professor Lupin continued lecturing the class about the spider's characteristics and weaknesses.

"We sure could've used this lesson two years ago," Harry whispered to Ron, who was so petrified at the mention of spiders that he could barely take notes.

"No kidding," Ron whispered back.

After class was over, Ron and Harry patiently waited for Hermione, who was asking questions about the sleeping habits of the spiders. They walked out of class together, looking over their schedules.

"Transfiguration next," Harry said to himself. "Then lunch, then Care of Magical Creatures."

"Ugh," Ron said. "What a pain, having your brother for a professor."

"Would you rather have your aunt for a professor?" Harry retorted.

"Or your father?" Hermione chimed in.

"Ok, so I have the better end of the deal. I wonder who Lupin was talking about – you know, that whole Dark witch and wizard thing."

"Well, it's pretty obvious that Snape's the Dark wizard. But, who's the Dark witch?"

Hermione thought for a minute, and suddenly remembered the conversation she overheard between Snape and Isabelle earlier in the morning. She told Harry and Ron what she heard, as they quickly walked to class.

"What are you trying to say? That my aunt's a Dark witch?"

"She was married to a Dark wizard, remember? Maybe that's where she met Snape," Hermione replied. "Maybe she knows how bad the Dark Arts are, and that's why she doesn't want him going away. Can you save me a seat, please? I think I left my quill in class." She rummaged through her bag.

"I guess," Ron said, walking into the classroom.

A group of Ravenclaw sixth-years walked out of the Transfiguration classroom, giggling. They didn't seem to notice Hermione practically tearing her bag apart, searching for her favorite quill, because they stopped right in front of her, pinning her in the corner.

"Wow," one girl sighed. "Professor Black is so hot." Hermione dropped her book on her toe. Where they talking about her father? She made a face.

"Tell me about it. He has the prettiest eyes."

"And smile. He actually smiled at you, Erika."

"I know," this Erika girl gushed. "I could barely take any notes."

"Me either," giggled the rest of the girls. Hermione finally found her quill, and stood up triumphantly. The Ravenclaw girls suddenly noticed she was there, and hurried away with red faces. She rushed into class, and took her seat.

"Why do you have that look on your face? You look like you've swallowed a lemon," Ron asked her.

"I'll tell you later."

Professor McGonagall began the lesson on transfiguring water into a painting. She handed each student a cup of water, and told them that they had to have some sort of painting by the end of class. Bonus points were awarded if the portrait had oil, not water, based paint.

"I'm not an artist. How am I supposed to come up with a portrait?" Parvati huffed.

"Just turn it into a canvas with a bunch of paint splatters and say that you're imitating Jackson Pollock," Hermione shot back.

"Who's Jackson Pollock?"

"An American avant-garde artist. Well, some say he was from the Surrealist school, others say from Abstract Expressionism. Anyway, his technique was to throw paint splatters against a canvas," she said, without looking up from her glass of water.

"Oh. How do you know about Muggle art, anyway?" Parvati asked.

"Because I'm Muggle-born." She looked up at Sirius, who was standing behind her, and winced. "Sorry. Muggle-raised. I was supposed to go to America to study art when I turned fourteen. But, I got my letter from Hogwarts, and decided to come here, instead."

"So, you can paint?" Lavender asked, looking at Parvati. They had always thought of Hermione as a bookworm without any real talent.

"Paint, draw, sculpture, photography. Anything with the visual arts." Hermione concentrated on her glass of water, carefully transfiguring about a third of it into a stretched piece of canvas.

"Can you sing and dance, too?"

"I can't really sing, but I can dance," she said distractedly, trying to decide whether or not to create a frame for her portrait. Lavender and Parvati looked shocked, and looked down quickly at their glasses to try to hide their amazement.

"Professor Black? Can you help me? My canvas isn't turning out right," Parvati huffed. It was a mess. The edges were jagged, and the canvas resembled Swiss cheese. Sirius walked over to her canvas, giving her pointers on how to make the canvas uniform and square.

After that was finished, Lavender needed help with creating oil based paints out of water. He caught the edge of his robe in the water, and rolled up his sleeves, revealing well-muscled arms. Since his trial, Sirius was on a mission to lose the emaciated Azkaban look, and had succeeded. Five minutes later, Seamus raised his hand for help, so he went to the other side of the classroom.

Lavender and Parvati began giggling. "He is so cute. I can't believe he's Hermione's dad," Parvati whispered.

"I know. Too bad he's way, way too old for us. I think he used to date my mum," Lavender whispered back.

"I know he dated my mum. I've seen the pictures and everything."

"Yeah, well, my father said there weren't many girls at Hogwarts that Professor Black didn't date. Dad said that he married Hermione's mum because she was the only girl left in England that didn't have a broken heart because of him."

Hermione's ears burned. She began to say something, but held her tongue. The Potter family has already lost Gryffindor enough points for one day, she kept repeating to herself. She looked over to Harry and Ron, who were laughing at each other's portraits.

"Mr. Potter? What, exactly, do you call that?" Professor McGonagall wrinkled her nose at the strange picture before her.

"Life without my glasses on," came the reply. Ron began laughing.

"Interesting. And what is your portrait entitled, Mr. Weasley?"

"Fred and George left alone in a room with dynamite."

"Clever." She couldn't help cracking a small smile. She walked over to Hermione's desk, where she was putting the finishing touches on her portrait. She looked at Professor McGonagall with a guilty face.

"I'm sorry, Professor McGonagall, but my portrait isn't an original. It's a copy of another artist's work."

"A very good copy, too, I might add. Five points to Gryffindor," she said. Sirius walked up to Hermione's desk, and paled slightly. "It's been a long time since I've seen this work. What is it called again?" she inquired.

"Angling in Spring, by Vincent van Gogh," Sirius said quietly. "It's lovely, Hermione. Please excuse me for a minute."

Hermione watched him walk out of the door, and looked at Professor McGonagall. "How did he know that? Did I do something wrong?" she asked, slightly upset.

"No, you didn't do anything wrong. When your parents were students here, your mother transfigured her glass of water into that very same portrait. It was her favorite piece of art. I remember, because she was the only student that I've ever had to actually copy a piece of art. Everyone else has had to do original works. You're just as good of an artist as she was."

The bell rang for lunch, and the students filed out of the classroom. "Hey, aren't you coming for lunch?" Harry asked Hermione.

"No, I think I'm going to the library for a while," she replied.

"Suit yourself," he said, leaving the room with Ron. She slowly gathered her books together, repairing her ripped bookbag.

"You know, when I did this assignment, my painting looked a lot like Ron's." She looked up at Sirius standing in the doorway.

"Like a bottle of ketchup and mustard exploded on canvas?"

"Exactly. Sorry I left earlier. Your portrait--"

"Looks like my mother's. I know. I'm sorry."

He smiled. "Don't be. She would be very happy that you have her talent. She was always drawing something."

"Do you have lunch plans?" she changed the subject.

"No."

"Good. You do now," she said, standing up.

Sirius was a little surprised that Hermione wanted to have lunch with him, but he wasn't going to question it. Either she was trying to cheer him up, or she was having a bad day. Or possibly both. "So, how are classes so far?"

"Well, Harry and I together lost Gryffindor one hundred and five points. Does that tell you anything?"

Definitely bad day, Sirius decided. "Ok. So, how did you lose the points?" She explained what happened in Potions class, and when she finished, she realized he was laughing.

"You're not mad?" she said in disbelief.

"No, I probably would have said the same thing." They reached the Great Hall, and walked to the far end of the Gryffindor table. "I give. Is there something wrong with me?"

"What do you mean?"

"All morning long, all the girls in my class have been giggling constantly. But, only when I say something, or walk by. Am I paranoid, or do I have something in my teeth?"

"Neither. I can't believe I'm telling you this."

"Telling me what?"

Hermione leaned over the table, so that other people wouldn't hear her. "They're giggling because they fancy you." She watched her father's face turn scarlet.

"You're kidding me."

"I wish." She started batting her eyes. "Oh, Professor Black is so cute," she said, perfectly imitating the Ravenclaw girls. "You're so lucky. He actually smiled at you."

"I thought you were going to the library," Harry said, sitting down at the table. "What's wrong with you?" he asked, looking at Sirius' red face and pained expression.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Just telling him about his female fan club. Well, lunch's over," she said, looking at her watch. "Better not be late, Papa. You wouldn't want to deprive your adoring public one minute of your presence." She had an evil grin, as she headed to class. Harry and Ron laughed at the look on Sirius' face.

-----

Isabelle sighed as she entered her Muggle Studies classroom. After today's fiasco in Potions, she was really beginning to doubt her abilities as a teacher. Snape tried to reassure her by informing her that Harry and Draco have had many fights, and this was just the last battle in their ongoing war. But, how in the world were they going to create two weeks' worth of detentions? Distracted, she sat behind her desk, and propped her feet up, closing her eyes. 

When she opened her eyes, she realized that something was on her desk. Six somethings, to be exact. Someone had left her half a dozen yellow roses, and a note propped up on the vase. Curious, she flipped open the envelope, and read the note.

"I heard about your first class, and thought you might need cheering up. If I remember correctly, these are your favorite flowers. Break a leg – Andrew"

She smiled. He had remembered correctly. She inhaled the aroma of the flowers, and turned to her lesson plans. Maybe the day was salvageable. Thirty minutes later, the class began filling with students. Finally, it was time to start class. Isabelle cringed, and rose from her desk.

"Good afternoon, class. Welcome to Muggle Studies," she drawled. Every guy's jaw dropped. Isabelle insisted on wearing Muggle clothes while teaching Muggle Studies. After Potions, she changed into a pair of low-rise, boot-cut jeans and a form-fitting, short-sleeved green sweater that matched her eyes perfectly.

"I have never seen a Muggle look like that," Lee Jordan whispered to George Weasley.

"Well, now you have." Lee turned red, as Isabelle continued. "How many of you have read the Daily Prophet in say, the past month?" Twenty-five hands shot in the air. "All of you, huh? So, I'm guessing you know that I've lived in the Muggle culture for the majority of my life?" Everyone nodded. "And that I was married to Sergei Remizov?" More nods.

"You are all seventh-year students, so I am going to be perfectly honest and frank with you. My ex-husband is a Death Eater. What do all Death Eaters have in common?"

"They hate Muggles," Angelina Johnson said in a small voice.

"Exactly. Any of you who were at the last Quiddich World Cup have first-hand knowledge of how Death Eaters like to treat Muggles. But, as much as they love to torture them, they don't bother to learn their culture. Which is why I can be so frank with you, because I know that no child of a Death Eater would ever be in this class. When Death Eaters attack Muggle settlements, it is so obvious that something is about to happen, because they easily stand out in a crowd. Any of you could prevent a Death Eater attack. That is, if you know Muggle culture well enough to know that their attire is inappropriate. Again, think back to the Quiddich World Cup."

"But, how will we be able to tell the difference?" Katie Bell asked.

"Hopefully by the end of the year, I will have taught you exactly that. Starting with this – Accio wands." Twenty-five wands flew into Isabelle's outstretched hand. "You won't need these here. In my classroom, you will behave exactly like Muggles."

She picked up a stack of three-ring binders, notebook paper, and subject dividers, and began passing them around the class. After everyone had their notebook organized, she passed out blue ballpoint pens. "Your homework assignment is to write a two page essay, front and back, about what your former professor taught you in this class. Ok, on to the fun stuff," she said, passing out a syllabus.

"What is this?" Fred asked.

"A syllabus. It's a type of calendar, outlining what subjects we're going to cover throughout the school year. And, what your assignments are and when they're due. If you note, I have planned all major projects around the Quiddich schedule so that you can have maximum practice time."

"Today, we are supposed to go to the Muggle Studies lab. What's that?" Lee asked.

"Right this way." The class followed Isabelle down the hallway, and into a refurbished classroom. One corner of the room had a big screen television, VCR, video game machines and a home entertainment system. Comfortable looking couches and chairs surrounded the TV. In another corner were several laptop computers. Separating the two areas was a mini-kitchen equipped with a refrigerator, microwave, popcorn popper, and various Muggle snacks and beverages. The class looked around in awe.

"One of your requirements for class is to spend two hours a week in the Muggle Studies lab, using all of this equipment. When we get back to class, I am going to give you a manual describing each piece of equipment, and how to use it. That way, I can lecture on other parts of Muggle culture, and leave the practical aspects of class to your lab time." She looked at her watch. "We have time to watch a quick TV show. Ok, everyone grab a seat."

Isabelle took the remote control of the TV, and started flipping channels. "This is called channel surfing," she told them. She flipped past BBC, MTV Europe, and many other channels before finding the American MTV channel.

"What's that?" Fred exclaimed in awe.

"A rerun of MTV Spring Break. This is what Muggles your age do on Easter holidays." The class watched, enraptured, laughing hysterically.

"Who is that?"

"Jerry Springer. He has a talk show, but he hosts a show on Spring Break sometimes."

"What's a talk show?"

"Well, George, you'll just have to find that out in your lab time, huh?"

After about forty-five minutes, Isabelle herded the class back into the classroom, and passed out their manuals. The students eagerly opened them, and began reading how to play Playstation and watch a movie. The bell rang, and Fred, George, and Lee immediately headed back to the lab.

"Ok, where's this TV Guide thing?" Lee rummaged around a stack of magazines.

"Right here, beside the remote," George answered. They searched through the TV Guide, watching shows for another hour. Isabelle walked in, and sat down on the sofa next to Lee.

"Getting a head start on lab time?" she asked them.

"Yep," they chorused.

"Do you have any suggestions?" Fred asked her.

"Hmmm. I'm thinking a movie, but I can't decide on which one. What's a good guy movie?" she puzzled to herself. "Do you want something funny, or serious where people blow up stuff?"

They talked amongst themselves for five minutes, at least. "Serious where people blow up stuff," Fred said.

"Then, I would start with Terminator, and Terminator 2. Terminator 2's really much better, but you won't understand the plot unless you see the first one."

Lee carefully studied his manual, and started the movie. They watched the movie, and barely made a noise until it was over. "That was amazing," Lee said.

"Yeah, put in the second one," George said impatiently.

Two and a half hours later, Fred, George and Lee walked into the Gryffindor common room, laughing and joking loudly. Lee walked over to where Harry and Ron were playing Exploding Snap.

"I just have to say, Harry, that your aunt's the most amazing professor I've ever had," he told him.

"Yeah," Fred added, "first the map, and now the Muggle Studies lab."

"What Muggle Studies lab?" Harry asked, confused. Fred, George and Lee began an animated description of the lab, everything that was in it, and the movies they'd watched all evening.

"Wow," Ron said jealously. "I wish I could get out of Divination for Muggle Studies now."

"Hey, we can always go back and watch TV or a movie or something," George said. "Professor Evans recommended a movie called Dumb and Dumber. She said that only guys like it."

"Cool. Let's go." Ron jumped up.

They went back to the lab. Harry looked up at the clock. "Oh, no," he said.

"What?" Lee asked, searching for the movie in the massive video library.

"Detention starts in five minutes. I guess I had better go." Harry sadly turned to head for the dungeons.

"Hasta la vista, baby," George called after him, in a perfect imitation of Arnold Schwarzenegger.

Harry hurried to the dungeon. He didn't want to be late for detention. As bad as he knew this was going to be, it would be much, much worse if he was late. He walked into the dungeon, where Snape and Draco were waiting. A minute later, Isabelle walked in, still wearing her Muggle clothing.

"Welcome to detention," Professor Snape said, in his usual cold tone.

"Yes," Isabelle added, in an unusually harsh tone. "Because you work so poorly together, we have decided to split you up for the next two weeks. Mr. Malfoy, you will work with Professor Snape. And, Mr. Potter, you will work with me. Is that clear?" They nodded. "Alright, let's go." Harry followed Isabelle up to her office, where she shut the door, and motioned for him to take a seat. She sat silently at her desk, reading a magazine, until she heard a knock at the door. "Come in," she called.

Sirius walked in the office, moved a chair around the desk beside Isabelle, and sat down. He, too, had an extremely stern look on his face. Harry gulped. He almost wished that he was back in the dungeon with Snape. Almost.

"Harry, do you respect your aunt as a professor?" he began in a quiet tone.

"Yes, sir," he answered in a small voice.

"Is starting a fight in the middle of class showing respect?"

"No, sir."

"Then why did you do it?" Harry didn't know it, but his answer to this question determined the severity of his detention. Isabelle watched him through narrowed eyes.

"Because he insulted my family – my mom, my dad, Aunt Gina, and Hermione. It had nothing to do with me being in Potions class. I would have punched him if we were in the middle of a Quiddich match. And, I would do it again," he said honestly.

"Do you think Lily would approve of your violent behavior?" Isabelle asked her nephew.

"I don't know. I don't know," he repeated, louder. "I have no idea what my mother would approve of. Or my father. I've never met them. All I have are old photographs, and they don't exactly talk to me. So, you tell me what my mother would think, Aunt Isabelle." He crossed his arms over his chest defiantly.

"That's exactly what I plan to do," she replied. At long last, she thought, he is being honest with us.

"What?" Harry asked, partially confused, and partially stunned. That was the last response he expected.

"You heard your aunt. Before we continue, let me make one thing perfectly clear. Fighting is completely unacceptable. If I got into a fist fight with every person who insulted our family, I would be back in Azkaban. You have to learn to keep a cool head. Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir." Harry heard a quiet tap at the door.

"Come in," Isabelle said loudly. Hermione walked in, and sat down in the chair next to Harry.

"Did you want to see me?" she asked.

"Yes. After classes today, Sirius and I had a talk, and we're afraid that we've done the two of you a disservice. It's not fair that you have to learn about our family in bits and pieces, at odd times. So, Harry, here's your detention. You will spend alternating nights with Sirius and I for the next two weeks, and take a crash course in family history. We wanted to give you the same opportunity, Hermione, but you don't have to stay if you don't want to."

"I want to," she said quickly.

"Here's the deal. Tonight, all four of us will stay together. You can ask any question you want to. Nothing is off limits. We'll decide who goes with who tomorrow night. And, Harry, don't breathe a word of this to Snape. He thinks that you're cleaning my office." Isabelle wrinkled her nose. "He bought that because I hate cleaning."

Isabelle stood, and removed a large notebook from a bookshelf. "Do you know what this is?" Hermione shook her head no. "This is your mother's sketchpad. In it are most of her drawings, and every clothing design she ever made. When I was in the ballet, I used her designs constantly."

Sirius pulled an old, worn notebook from his cloak. "Do you know what this is, Harry?" He shook his head no. "Your father was a Quiddich genius. This notebook has all of the plays that he made up for our House team. Remus kept it all of these years for you."

They spent the rest of the evening looking over the notebooks, and talking. Isabelle really hoped this idea would produce some sort of family unity. Around midnight, she sent Harry and Hermione back to Gryffindor tower.

"Peanut butter," Hermione told the Fat Lady. The portrait swung open, and she and Harry walked into the common room. Fred, George, Lee and Ron were talking and laughing about something called Turbo-Lax.

"Harry, you really missed a great movie. What'd Snape have you do this time?" Ron asked.

"Clean Aunt Isabelle's office," he lied.

"That stinks. Where were you Hermione, with Viktor?"

"No, I wasn't, as a matter of fact. Not that it's your business anyway." She turned on her heel and stomped off to the girls' dormitory.

"You've got it bad, Ron," Fred teased.

"Shut up, Fred."

"Yeah, imagine what her Papa would say if he knew you fancied her," George chimed in.

"He already knows."

"What?" Fred, George and Lee shouted.

"Shh!" Ron hissed. He told the story of what happened on the train to Hogsmeade.

"That could possibly be the most humiliating thing I've ever heard of," George said with pride, clapping Ron on the back. "So, when are you going to tell her?"

"I'm not."

"Why not? Afraid of the wrath of Papa?" Fred said, laughing.

"No," Ron said seriously. "I'm not. She's going through so much already that I don't want to add one more thing to it. If I told her how I felt about her, I just might scare her away forever. I'd rather have her as a friend, than nothing at all." With that, Ron turned and marched towards the boys' dormitory.

If Ron had looked carefully, he would have seen a tall brunette hiding in a shadow as he walked past the girls' dormitory entrance. Hermione had come downstairs to apologize to Ron for snapping at him, and had heard everything. She quietly walked back upstairs, and went to bed, but her mind was too full of thoughts to sleep.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

Harry ate quickly so that he could make it to the Advanced Magic Seminar on time. Luckily, he had managed to make it through the day without getting into trouble, and he didn't want to start now. He knew he was still on very thin ice with both Isabelle and Sirius. Being late for their class wouldn't go over well. He hurried up the staircase, found Classroom 10-A, and walked inside, looking at the clock. There was ten minutes to spare.

He looked around the classroom, and saw only one other person. Cho Chang. Harry's stomach did a flip-flop. She still looked sad, but was as pretty as ever.

"Hi, Harry," she said.

"Hi," he said back. Real smooth, he thought crossly.

"Um, I just wanted you to know that, well, I don't blame you for what happened to Cedric. I know it wasn't your fault."

"Thanks." They smiled at each other, and began talking. Harry didn't even notice the time, or people coming into the classroom, until he heard the door and windows slam and lock. The class looked around nervously. Isabelle and Sirius were sitting on the desk. Isabelle appeared to be counting heads before she began to speak.

"Good evening, class. Welcome to the Advanced Magic Seminar. I must admit, Professor Black and I picked the majority of the students for this class by faculty recommendation and looking at your transcripts. So, let me call roll so that we can put a face to some of your names. Katie Bell, Hermione Black, Lavender Brown," she paused briefly between each name to look at the student's face, "Cho Chang, Angelina Johnson, Lee Jordan, Neville Longbottom, Padma Patil, Parvati Patil, Harry Potter." She smiled. "And now, the Weasley delegation. Fred, George, Ginny, and Ron. I'm not going to lie to you. This is going to be the most difficult class that you have ever taken, and will ever take, at Hogwarts. Every one of you was selected because you are the most talented witches and wizards at this school. More than that, each of you has been personally affected by Lord Voldemort. Some of you have lost parents, loved ones, or friends. Others of you have met Voldemort personally, and fortunately, lived to tell about it." Ginny looked down at her desk.

"This class will test the limits of both your wizarding talents and emotional strength. We picked you because we have high expectations. Professor Evans and I have been instructed to train you to become the part of our intelligence network, called the Order of the Phoenix. It is a highly secretive society. You may never know who some of the people in the network are. If you remain in this class, it is understood that after you graduate, you are to work for the Order. If anyone finds this unacceptable, please leave now." No one moved. "After this year is over, you will have all of the skills necessary to gather information against Lord Voldemort. Some of you will become Aurors, others will work to compile information so that we have a clear plan of attack. A few of you may infiltrate the Death Eaters' inner circle. In fact, most of the information that we have to base this class on came from one very strategic spy."

"Thank you. Although most of my information is two years old, my sources tell me that the tactics and skills the Death Eaters are using are the same as when I was married to Sergei Remizov. Before we truly begin this class, let me make something clear. Professor Black and I will talk about our experiences, talents and skills, but we will not discuss our personal lives. We wish to keep our family life private, and encourage all of you to do the same. Meaning that all of you need to work together and trust each other, regardless of how you feel about each other personally. You will probably be best friends with people in this room. You will fight with each other, date each other, and maybe marry each other. But, no matter what, when push comes to shove, you need to trust each other. Lord Voldemort's greatest weapon is distrust. When you stop trusting each other, evil can defeat you easily. I have seen it happen before, and I do not want to see it happen to any of you."

"We plan to divide this class into two parts. For the first hour, I will teach you highly advanced Transfiguration. By the end of today's class, you should be able to do this." Sirius removed a ballpoint pen from his pocket that he borrowed from Isabelle, and threw it into the air. While in midflight, the pen changed shape to a tiny pin that no one could see. Suddenly, a large knife landed on the floor, embedding itself into the stone. Thick, blue, acidic goo poured out of the knife's tip, eating away at the floor. The class gasped. "That's the poison pen trick. It's particularly effective and deadly at night." He took out his wand, and pointed it at the knife. The knife immediately turned back into a ballpoint pen, and returned to his outstretched hand.

"Wow," Fred breathed. "I've never seen anything like that in McGonagall's class."

"Probably because we'd all be in the hospital wing within five minutes," Ginny replied.

"Well, now it's your turn to try. Any volunteers?" Sirius couldn't help but smile at the wary looks the class gave each other. "Ok, Neville, why don't you try?"

Neville nervously stood up and took the ballpoint pen out of Sirius' hand. He felt every eye in the classroom looking at him, wondering why he was even here. Why am I here? he thought. Everyone knows that I am almost a squib.

"You are not almost a squib. You are quite a powerful wizard, Neville. Just relax, and concentrate," Isabelle said softly, so that only he could hear.

He jumped. How did Professor Evans know what I was thinking? he thought wildly. Never mind, just focus, he kept repeating to himself. He tossed the pen into the air, where it quickly turned into a tiny pin, and then a knife that slammed into the floor, spilling liquid goo everywhere.

"Amazing," Lee said, obviously impressed.

Neville grinned, and quickly turned the knife back into a pen, and handed it back to Sirius, who was as surprised as anyone else that Neville was successful. Isabelle shot Sirius a triumphant look that plainly said, told you.

"Ok, who's next?" Sirius asked. Thirteen hands shot up in the air. One by one, each student managed to perform the poison pen trick, although Angelina nearly cut Katie's toes off.

"Alright, how about we take a ten minute break before we go on," Isabelle said. "Oh, Neville, can I talk to you during the break?" The class started chattering excitedly about what they had just learned, and started making guesses as to what Professor Evans' lesson was going to be.

"You wanted to see me, Professor Evans?" Neville asked.

She smiled at him. He really favors his father, she thought. Pity he'll never know it. She sighed. "Yes, I wanted to congratulate you on learning the lesson so quickly."

"Thanks," he mumbled.

"Also, I was wondering if you could come up to my office one day next week, say, Thursday at seven o'clock?" He nodded. "Great. Ok, y'all, break's up," Isabelle shouted over the din. The class quickly took their seats.

"Professor Black told you earlier that we plan to split the class into two parts. Well, my part is to teach you Advanced Defense Against the Dark Arts. Unlike Professor Figg or Lupin, I can show you the Dark Arts because I know them."

"Are you a Death Eater?" Padma said in a hushed, scared voice.

Isabelle laughed. "No. I am stupid." The class looked confused. "While I said that I wouldn't discuss my personal life in class, I suppose setting my story straight wouldn't hurt anything. When I married Sergei Remizov, I knew he was the owner of my ballet company. I didn't know he was a Death Eater until later. I am stupid because a trusted friend told me not to marry him, and I did anyway. Anyway, I learned the Dark Arts because Sergei and his Death Eater friends used them every day. But, what I am going to teach you to do isn't technically a Dark Art, although most people consider it one. I am here to teach you wandless magic."

"Um, where did you learn that? American school?" Ron inquired.

"In a manner of speaking. Wow, y'all ask really hard questions to answer without giving personal details." She sighed. "After I went to America, my guardian privately tutored me for two and a half years so that I could become a fully qualified witch. One thing he taught me was wandless magic, not because it was a fun thing to learn, but because it was a necessity. Our wands shared cores, and because of the priori incantantem effect, neither one of us could really perform magic with our wands. Before the school year began, I asked Mr. Ollivander how common it was for a wand to ever meet its mate. He told me that it's far more common than people realize. Wands, by themselves, are just a tool. They are no more magical than a fork, if there is no power behind it. What a wand does is channel its owner's energy into a very narrow beam. The core is the conduit. Using a wand takes far less concentration and talent than going wandless."

"Are you the only witch who can do wandless magic that's not a Death Eater?" Harry asked.

"No, but I am the only witch who can do Dark Spells without a wand."

"Who else can do wandless spells?" Fred asked.

Isabelle looked at Sirius, who shrugged his shoulders. "May as well tell them," he said.

She shut her eyes tightly, thinking. "I'm trying to remember them all. There's me, of course, Dumbledore, McGonagall, Flitwick, Snape, Figg, Lupin, and all of your parents. I'm thinking that's it."

"All of our parents?"

"Yes, Ginny, all of them. Especially yours," she said with a smile.

Harry, Ron and Hermione exchanged a look. They remembered what happened at the end of their third year, at the Shrieking Shack. When Sirius and Remus were trying to explain what happened when Harry's parents died, they convinced them to listen by saying that they were armed, and Sirius and Remus were not.

"You tricked us," Hermione said in a quiet, angry tone, narrowing her eyes at her father.

"What are you talking about?" Isabelle asked.

"Nothing," Sirius replied quickly, hoping Hermione would drop the subject. She didn't.

"It's not nothing. You lied." The entire class looked at the two of them with interest, including Isabelle, who was completely clueless.

"It wasn't a lie. We'll talk about this later."

"It was a lie by deception, which is the same thing."

"I said later, Gracie," Sirius said through clenched teeth, fuming. They stared each other down for a minute, but Hermione kept her mouth shut. She knew the subject was closed when she heard her nickname.

Isabelle gave them both a funny look. "Anyway, before we begin learning wandless magic, let me demonstrate exactly what y'all could see in a battle against Death Eaters. Let me emphasize that this is the worst case scenario, and I only know five people who can do this. I want all of you to come stand beside the desk during this demonstration."

The students stood up, and huddled around the desk. Isabelle picked up a jar, and released five ants onto the floor. "Engorgio." The ants grew, until they were a foot tall. "Petrificus totalus." The ants froze in motion. Isabelle turned to the class. "This is a very unrealistic example, because the targets are large and not moving. But, I don't want to run the risk of hurting any of you." She held out her left arm, palm up, fingers together. "Avada kedavra," she said quietly. A small green ball formed in her palm, spinning slowly. The ball grew until it was the size of a tennis ball, spinning rapidly. Isabelle turned her hand over, and spread her fingers out. A green beam shot from each of her fingers, hitting all of the ants, killing them instantly. The class gasped in horror.

"Wow," Lee squeaked out.

"That's what I said when I saw it for the first time. Well, that's the worst, so hopefully nothing else you see will shock you." Isabelle took out a stack of books. "We'll begin with simple charms. Tonight y'all will learn wingardium leviosa and incindia."

The students began working on their charms. Most of the class tried wingardium leviosa first, because it was easier, but Hermione seemed focused on setting her book on fire. She was still quite angry. "Incindia," she said, sending five-foot flames into the air.

"Ouch!" Cho exclaimed. Harry's book had accidentally hit her in the head. He turned bright red.

"Sorry," he mumbled.

"That's ok," she said, flashing him a brilliant smile. "No worse than a Bludger. See? No permanent damage. If you promise not to catch me on fire, I'll forgive you this once." She winked at him, and turned back to her book.

"Earth to Harry," Ron said impatiently.

"Huh?" he said.

"What's wrong with you?" Ron looked where Harry was staring, and saw Cho. "You still fancy her?"

"Shhh!" Harry hissed. "You're the one still hung up on my cousin." He looked over at Hermione, who was now making her burnt book hit the wall repeatedly.

"Yeah, she's cute when she's mad, isn't she?"

"I'll take your word for it." Harry made a face.

"So, are you going to ask Cho out? There's a Hogsmeade trip right before Halloween."

"Ron, that's in two months."

"Oh, yeah. Sorry." He shrugged his shoulders.

"Hey Ron, check it out. Your girl's got quite a temper. Sure you fancy her?" Fred teased. Hermione was still making the book hit the wall repeatedly, but now the book was on fire, leaving charcoal marks on the wall.

"What a woman," Ron said admiringly. "Anyway, when are Quiddich tryouts?"

"Why, planning on trying out for keeper?" Lee asked, floating his book three inches above Katie's head. She gave him a mean look.

"Absolutely." They began discussing the upcoming season, and their chances of winning the Quiddich cup.

"Alright, class is over. Please practice between now and then, but only in this classroom, ok? See you next week," Isabelle said. The class gathered their things, and slowly left the room until only Harry, Hermione, Isabelle and Sirius were left.

Sirius had finally had enough of Hermione's temper tantrum. While her anger was justified, her tantrum was not. He conjured up a small rain cloud above her head, which completely drenched her in ice-cold water. She looked up at him, sputtering.

"What? I thought you needed to cool off before you burnt the school down," he said innocently.

"Is it later yet?" she fumed in response.

"In a minute," he replied.

Harry rolled his eyes. This is going to be a very long night, he thought. He looked at his aunt, and could tell she was thinking the exact same thing.

-----

"Hey, Hermione, got a minute?" Harry asked her before he lost his nerve. Because of detention, he had been spending quite a bit of time with her, and she seemed unusually withdrawn. Tonight was the last night of detention, and he figured that if he didn't get a chance to talk to her now, he might never catch her by herself, since Viktor was like an ever-present shadow lately. 

"Sure. What's going on?" She turned to go to Gryffindor tower, but Harry pulled her into an empty classroom instead.

"That's what I was going to ask you."

"I don't know what you mean," she said, not meeting his eyes.

"Yes, you do. You haven't been at meals, you've spent all of your spare time either with Viktor or the library, and you barely talk to either Ron or I anymore. What's wrong with you?"

"I can't tell you."

"Why not?"

"Because I'm not supposed to know. But, I do. Apparently I'm the last person at Hogwarts to find out. And, I don't know what to think about it, so I'm trying not to, ok?"

"Not supposed to know what? Hermione, you're not making any sense."

"Why are you bugging me?"

"Because I miss being able to copy your homework."

"How are you ever going to learn if you don't do the work yourself?" They laughed. "It's not something you can really talk about with a guy."

"Try me."

"Fine." She sighed. "You know your first night of detention?"

"Yeah."

"And how Ron and I got into a fight, and I went to my dorm room?"

"Uh-huh."

"Well, I felt really bad about snapping at him. It wasn't his fault that I was in a sensitive mood, and I came downstairs to apologize to him. But, I didn't make it downstairs, because I heard what you guys were saying."

Harry suddenly understood. "Oh," he said.

"Oh, is right. What am I supposed to do?"

"I don't know."

"Thanks. That was really helpful," she said sarcastically.

"I'm only trying to help," Harry said defensively.

"I know. I'm sorry. It's just that I never thought about Ron that way. And, well, I'm not sure what I feel for him. He's my best friend. Well, next to you, but you're family, so I'm stuck with you. I don't want to ruin a friendship over a relationship that might not work."

He made a face at her. "Does Viktor know?"

"No. I'm not sure what I feel for Viktor, either. He's a nice guy and everything, but I can't talk to him like I can Ron."

"So, you'd rather be with Ron, then?"

"Yes. No. I don't know, Harry. I just can't make sense of my feelings, that's all. Maybe I'll run off and join a convent."

"Well, that was Sirius' solution to the problem – sending you off to a convent until you were at least twenty-five."

"Did he really say that?"

"Yes, he did."

"Why do I lead such a messed-up life? Why can't I have a normal life, with a normal family, and a normal boyfriend. Is that too much to ask? Instead, I have a bizarre family life, where my father, who, incidently, I didn't know about until a month and a half ago, knows who fancies me before I do!" She dramatically buried her head in her arms.

"It's not that bad."

"Not that bad?" came the muffled reply. "What would you do if you were in my place?"

"First of all, I would be worried if two guys fancied me. See, that made you smile. Second, I wouldn't hide from Ron. Hiding doesn't help anything."

"Then why don't you tell Cho how you feel about her?"

"Ok, I'll make a deal with you. If you start acting human and stop avoiding Ron, I'll ask Cho out. Deal?"

"Deal. But, I'm not going to ask him out or anything. I have my pride."

"Fine."

"We had better get back to the dorm before we get into trouble."

"Hermione, we're prefects. We're allowed to be out after hours, remember?"

"Yeah, that excuse would go a long way with Snape." She imitated Snape's sneering tone. "Well, well, Ms. Black, whatever could be keeping you outside your dormitory at this time of night? And you, Mr. Potter? What a surprise, seeing the two of you together. A nice little family reunion." They started laughing. "Why does he hate us so much?"

"I guess because of our fathers. I don't know. He likes Aunt Isabelle, though. That's the strange thing."

"Yeah. What's up with that?"

"I have no idea."

They quietly crept from through the castle to Gryffindor tower. Before they reached the dormitory staircases, Hermione stopped Harry.

"Thanks for everything," she said, giving him a quick hug.

"No problem. Don't forget our deal."

"I won't," she replied, walking up the stairs.

-----

Harry woke up early, and headed to the Great Hall for breakfast. Last night's conversation with Hermione played through his mind. He couldn't decide whether or not to tell Ron that Hermione knew how he felt about her. On the one hand, it could end their ridiculous behavior around each other. On the other hand, he didn't want to get in the middle of the whole situation. He grabbed a pastry, thinking. 

"Why are you up so early?" Hermione yawned, sitting down.

"I could ask you the same question."

"Couldn't sleep."

"Me, either. Besides, I have Quiddich practice this afternoon, and since somebody's not around to help with homework, I have to do it this morning."

She rolled her eyes. "Fine. I give. What subject?"

"History of Magic."

"How's tomorrow afternoon?"

"Perfect."

"What's tomorrow afternoon?" Ron asked, grabbing a seat beside Harry and helping himself to a chocolate doughnut.

"Uh," Hermione said, her ears turning slightly pink. "We're, uh, going over History of Magic homework. You can come if you want to."

"Great. I can never stay awake in Binns' class, anyway."

"Well, I'm going to the Quiddich pitch, then. See you later."

Harry quickly stood from the table, and headed back to Gryffindor tower to get his broomstick. He didn't think he could stand one more minute of Ron and Hermione stuttering at each other. He rummaged around in his trunk for his broomstick servicing kit. After making sure his Firebolt was in absolute perfect condition, he grabbed it and his father's playbook, and headed to the pitch. When he got there, he saw that most of the Gryffindor team had the same idea. The only problem was that the Ravenclaw team had the pitch for the next half hour, so they had to wait.

"Hey, Harry, is that your dad's playbook?" Fred asked.

"Yep." Harry passed it to Fred, who opened it reverently.

"Wow," he whistled. "George, look at this. We're going to be unstoppable this year." Fred, George, Angelina, Katie, and Harry looked at the book, and began modifying the plays slightly to better suit their team. After about ten minutes, Alicia Spinnet came to the pitch, followed by Lee Jordan.

"Lee, you know you can't be here. This is a closed practice session," Katie reminded him.

"The Gryffindor practice is closed. However, this is still the Ravenclaw practice," he pointed out.

"Fine. So, why are you here?" she asked. He pointed up, at the Ravenclaw team. Katie rolled her eyes. "Figures. Which one are you interested in? Cho?"

"Nope. Her," he said, pointing at a pretty blonde chaser.

"Hilary?" Fred said, wrinkling his nose. "She's such a geek. I mean, look at her."

"Um, Fred? You just might want to look again," George said. Fred looked up, and did a double take.

"What happened to her? I mean, she was such a nerd. And now, she's, well, hot." Angelina gave Fred a sharp elbow to the ribs. "Sorry." He quickly turned back to the playbook, as did everyone else, except Lee, who was focused on a certain Ravenclaw chaser. Twenty minutes later, the Ravenclaw team finished up their practice, and left the pitch.

"Well, that's my cue to leave," Lee said, grinning.

Charlie walked up to the team as Lee was leaving. "Why is he in such a good mood?" he asked.

"He fancies Hilary Jones, the Ravenclaw chaser. I think he's planning on asking her to go on a walk or something," Alicia explained.

"Oh. She's in my class. Really nice girl," Charlie said.

"Then I feel sorry for her," George mumbled.

"So, Charlie, here to help the old team?" Angelina asked, smiling. "Everyone will be jealous that we're getting coaching from the legendary seeker Charlie Weasley."

He flushed a deep scarlet. "Definitely Fred's type of girl, all right," he muttered under his breath. "Yep," he said, louder, so that everyone could hear. "I'm not trying to take over your practice, or anything, but you really should pick a captain. Otherwise, this practice will go nowhere, fast."

Harry considered his words, and looked around. Other than himself, the rest of the team were all seventh-years. Any one of them would make a good captain. How were they supposed to pick one? No one said anything for a minute, so Harry decided to break the silence.

"Well, I think that Fred and George would make good captains," he said.

"Which one?" Alicia said, slightly confused.

"Both of them. Why not? They're like one mind, anyway, and they're good leaders," Harry explained.

"True," Katie said slowly. "I think that's a good idea, Harry."

"Me, too," said Alicia.

"Me, too," said Angelina. "What do you think, Fred?"

He grinned. "I think I could follow in Oliver's footsteps. How about you, George?" Everyone else groaned, thinking about Oliver Wood's grueling practice sessions in all types of unforgiving weather.

"Sure," George replied. "As your new co-captain, I think we should stop bloody talking and start practicing." Everyone laughed at his mock serious expression.

"Yeah, let's try some of these new plays," Fred said. "The offensive ones, anyway. We can't do the defensive ones until we have keeper tryouts."

"When do you want to do that?" Katie asked.

"How about Wednesday and Thursday? I think that gives enough time to give notice for whoever wants to try out, and then whoever makes it can start practicing next weekend," George proposed.

"Fine," the team replied.

Harry handed the playbook over to Charlie, who started making diagrams for various plays in Angelina's Muggle Studies notebook. After working out five offensive plays, Fred and George found the box with the Quiddich balls, and released them. The team became so focused on practice that no one noticed that they had a visitor until she had practically screamed herself hoarse.

"Excuse me? Harry!" He stopped midflight. Alicia nearly ran into him, but everyone else kept playing, oblivious. Harry flew down to where Fleur was standing.

"Hey, Fleur. I mean, Professor Delacour."

Charlie looked down at Fleur, and completely lost his concentration. Before he knew what was happening, he fell off his broomstick, landing right in front of her. Angelina gasped in horror.

"What happened?" Fred asked her.

"Well, Harry started talking to Professor Delacour, and Charlie saw them. And then he fell off his broomstick," she explained.

Fred looked at George. Identical evil grins spread across their faces, as if Christmas had come early. "First Ron, and now this. George, are you thinking what I'm thinking?"

"Absolutely." They quickly flew down, so that they wouldn't miss a humiliating moment.

By this time, Fleur had rushed to Charlie's side. "Are you alright?" she asked, kneeling beside him.

"Huh? Yeah," he mumbled. He was completely entranced by her, until two smirking faces appeared behind her.

"So, Charlie, what happened there?" George teased.

"Yeah, what could possibly have distracted you to the point of falling off your broomstick?" Fred added. He gave them murderous looks, but they innocently smiled back.

"Should you go to the hospital wing?" Fleur asked, concerned.

Charlie finally found his tongue. "No, I'm fine, thank you. I've taken worse falls in Romania working with the dragons."

A spark of recognition flashed across Fleur's face. "Are you the dragon-handler from the Tri-Wizard tournament?"

"I am. I remember you did quite well on that task."

"You are too kind. Harry was much better." She smiled at Harry. "Which reminds me of why I'm here. Have you seen your aunt? I wanted to ask about taking private ballet lessons from her, but I can't find her anywhere."

"Try the Muggle Studies lab. She usually goes there on Saturdays with Professor Lupin to watch James Bond movies," Harry said.

"What's James Bond?" Katie asked.

"An English spy. There's a ton of movies about him out. Aunt Isabelle and Professor Lupin like to watch them to bet on how many women Bond will hook up with in one movie. They're trying to get through the Bond movies so they can watch something else called Austin Powers, which is a parody of Bond." Harry rolled his eyes.

"Thanks," Fleur said, standing up. "Would you mind if I checked on you later to make sure you're alright, Professor Weasley?"

"Not at all. And, call me Charlie," he said, turning bright red.

"Ok, see you later then, Charlie." She smiled, and walked off the Quiddich pitch.

"Call me Charlie," Fred imitated, in a sing-song voice.

"Shut up, Fred."

"Yeah, Charlie, better go get pretty for when Professor Delacour comes to check on you. Try not to fall down in front of her this time," George added.

"You shut up, too, George." Now I know how Ron feels, he thought.

Harry looked at the rest of the team and shrugged his shoulders. It was quite obvious that Quiddich practice was over, by the looks on the Weasley brothers' faces. Oh, well, he thought. I have to do Divination homework, anyway.

-----

"Charlie did what?" Ron said, laughing. Harry, Fred and George found Ron in the common room after practice, and wasted no time telling him what happened. 

"Yeah, it was priceless," Fred said.

"Wonder if he's going to start seeing Professor Delacour," George mused.

"Her? With our brother? Please," Ron snorted. "So, tryouts are Wednesday?"

"And Thursday," Harry reminded him.

"Remind me to borrow Charlie's broomstick. I don't have a ghost of a chance without it."

Between classes and Quiddich practice, the week flew by. Harry and the rest of the team stood on the Quiddich pitch Wednesday afternoon surveying a group of would-be keepers. One by one, Angelina, Katie and Alicia put each person through an exhausting tryout. Several third-years and one fourth-year girl showed potential, but no one was quite up to the caliber of the rest of the team.

Finally, it was Ron's turn. He nervously took his position in front of the goal, knowing that the team would be much rougher on him because he was either related to or close friends with almost every member of the team. He knew that he had to be the best in order to even have a shot at the position. The chasers started taking their best shots at him, but he deflected everything they threw at him. Finally, they grew frustrated, and began running actual plays against him, but no one could score a goal against him. Harry was amazed. He knew that Ron was a fair keeper, but he didn't know that he was that good. He looked at Fred and George, and could tell that they were thinking the same thing. After twenty minutes, the chasers finally gave up and returned to the ground.

"Well, that's it for today. Thanks for coming, everybody," Fred said to the crowd. He turned to his brother. "Ron, how did you learn to play like that?"

"Years of practice," he replied with a self-conscious smile.

Although more people turned out for the Thursday tryouts, no one was half as good as Ron, and the entire team knew it. After tryouts were over, it took all of thirty seconds for them to decide on a keeper. They packed up their gear, and headed back to the common room to throw themselves a small party for making it through tryouts. When they walked in, Ron was sitting at the fire, working out a Divination chart. Rather, he was doing a good job at making one up.

"I am so glad that's over," Katie said, falling into chair.

"Me, too. Now we can concentrate on winning the Quiddich cup," Alicia replied, stretching out across the floor.

"Where are Fred and George? It doesn't usually take them this long to nick food," Harry complained. Tryouts had lasted much longer than they had expected, and they had missed dinner. Five minutes later, they appeared with a ton of food, which was attacked quickly.

"Hey, Ron," George mumbled through a mouthful of food. "You think Charlie would let you borrow his broomstick tomorrow?"

"Sure. Why?" he asked, not looking up from his chart.

"Because you'll need it for practice," Harry said, smiling.

Ron looked up, surprised. "What?"

"Yep. Welcome to the team," Angelina told him.

Ron just smiled. All of his hard work over the summer with Charlie had paid off. He reached for a sandwich, and started talking about strategies with the rest of the team until midnight, Divination homework completely forgotten.

-----

Across the castle, a very nervous Neville Longbottom timidly knocked on Isabelle's office door. She hollered for him to come in, and he quietly walked in her office. He sat down in the chair closest to her desk, and looked down at his hands. 

"Good evening, Neville," she said kindly. His face was an ashen white, as if he was expecting to be punished for some unnamed mistake.

"Good evening," he managed to mutter back.

"I can't help but tell that you're having a little trouble in my Potions class. But, you're doing just fine in my Muggle Studies and seminar classes. Can you tell me what's going on?"

Neville thought carefully before he spoke. Although he knew that he had no reason to trust this woman, there was just something about her that put him at ease. But, at ease or not, he refused to discuss painful subjects, so he avoided the question.

"No. I guess I'm just bad at Potions," he said.

Isabelle narrowed her eyes slightly as she studied Neville. He found her piercing stare unnerving, as if she could see right through him to his soul. After thirty seconds, she folded her hands together on her desk, and stared him straight in the eye.

"That could be true," she shrugged. "You could come by it honestly. Poor marks in Potions class is what kept your father from being Head Boy, I'm told."

His eyes widened. "You knew my father?"

"Yes, and your mother, too."

"How?" Never, ever had Neville asked anyone about his parents. He didn't really know why he was asking now, other than sheer curiosity. That, and no one had ever brought up the subject of his parents before now.

"Well, the summer after you were born was when my family split into two to try to avoid Lord Voldemort. I had just turned sixteen, and Hermione was thirteen months old. Sirius didn't want to leave us alone all day, so he would take us to the office. That way, I could see James and give him letters for Lily." She sighed. "Anyway, your mother would pick us up and we would go over your house for the day. You and Hermione would play, and I usually talked to your mother. Your grandmother would come over often. She was such a fun lady. How is she?"

"Fine. I wondered why she asked about you in her last letter."

"Did she?" Isabelle smiled broadly. "Maybe I'll write her a letter, then. She's only hard on you because she knows what potential you have."

"Why bother? So I can end up like my parents?" Neville said bitterly.

"Pretending to be less than what you are isn't going to make your problems go away. Your parents were attacked because some Death Eater found out that your mother watched Hermione and I. When they thought that Sirius was Lord Voldemort's second-in-command, they thought that your parents would know where the Dark Lord was."

"So, that's why it happened."

"That's why. It had nothing to do with talent. It had to do with who your parents knew. Trust me, I know a thing or two about your life being messed up because of what happens to other people. Or the choices other people make." Her voice trailed off, as she looked out the window. She looked back at Neville. "But, we can't change what happens to us sometimes. We can only change the way we react to it. Do you really think pretending to be a mediocre wizard so that Death Eaters won't target you is a good way to deal with what happened to your parents?"

He sat, thinking. "No, I don't."

"Me, either. So, I have a proposal for you. If you want to catch up with the rest of your class, I would be willing to tutor you. I had a tutor when I was about your age, so don't feel embarrassed about needing help. But, I'll only help you if you're willing to deal with your problems. Think about it, and let me know, ok?"

Neville stood up, and turned to walk out the door. Right before leaving, he turned back around with a determined look on his face. "When can you start tutoring me?"

"How about tomorrow afternoon, after Muggle Studies class?"

"That's fine with me," he replied, walking out of the office.

"See you then," Isabelle said, closing the door.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

Fifteen minutes later, Severus Snape poked his head in the door. Isabelle looked up, and glanced down at her wristwatch.

"Sorry, I forgot about the time," she said apologetically. She tightly locked her office door, and followed Snape to Dumbledore's office where Professors Flitwick, McGonagall, Lupin and Black were already seated around Professor Dumbledore's desk. They quickly took the remaining seats.

"How did your meeting with Neville go?" Professor Dumbledore asked.

"Better than I expected. He seems ready to deal with the past. Unlike some people," she looked directly at Sirius, "I don't see him as a potential Death Eater. He's just a kid with serious issues. I can relate to that. It takes time to work through them."

Professor Dumbledore studied Isabelle. Although he could read her better than most people could, she usually kept her ideas and emotions private. It was as if she guarded part of herself; not that he could blame her. It surprised him that she did voice an opinion about Neville. But, guarded or not, she did have an unusual gift of understanding people, which Dumbledore hoped would help them now. He just had to go about questioning her the right way. If he accidentally offended her somehow, she would retreat into her vast defense mechanisms, which would defeat the entire purpose of this meeting. He sat, thinking for a minute.

"So, which of the children do you think is a potential target of Lord Voldemort?" he asked to the entire group.

"Well, I think we should start with the Slytherin house, and work our way from there," Professor Flitwick said.

"Excuse me? Not every Death Eater is a Slytherin, and I think that's an unfair generalization," Snape snapped.

"Unfair generalization? Let's see here. Crabbe, Goyle, Parkinson. And don't forget Draco Malfoy. That kid is dangerous," Sirius replied.

"Crabbe, Goyle, and Parkinson I agree with. Their families are stupid, but evil. A dangerous combination. But Draco Malfoy? I'm not convinced." Isabelle sighed. "Well, he does have a bit too much of his mother in him."

"His mother? What about his father, who is actually the Death Eater?" Remus said.

"As the old saying goes, don't judge a book by its cover." Dumbledore raised an eyebrow at Isabelle's response.

"And what do you know of Lucius Malfoy? We," Sirius pointed to himself and Remus, "went to school with him. Half of our work load at the Ministry could be traced back to him. He's pure evil."

"He's not pure evil. Remember, people thought you were capable of killing your own daughter. Trust me on this one, ok?" Isabelle responded in Gaelic, knowing that only Sirius could understand her. She switched back to English. "Yes, perhaps we should monitor Draco, but I don't think he's the most logical target for Lord Voldemort."

"Then who is?" Professor McGonagall asked, curious.

"Ron Weasley."

"What? That's absurd," Professor Flitwick exclaimed.

Isabelle turned to him, staring directly into his eyes. "Is it that absurd? Ron's in the shadow of five younger brothers. There's really nothing that he can achieve that one of his brothers hasn't done before him. His best friends? The famous Potter cousins. And, he's poor."

"Go on," Professor Dumbledore said, intrigued.

"If I was Lord Voldemort, and I am not, I would be worried about the competition, blood-wise. He's the last remaining heir of Slytherin. He's already killed off the heir of Hufflepuff, Cedric Diggory. Which leaves the Gryffindor and Ravenclaw houses. Unfortunately for him, he thought that there was only one remaining heir of Gryffindor, but we all know that there are two. The last of the Potter line – Harry and Hermione. By some bizarre stroke of fate, Harry fancies Cho Chang, the heir of Ravenclaw. It would be far too easy to get the three of them together, and kill them at once."

"But Ron fancies Hermione. There's no way that he would turn her in to Lord Voldemort," Remus said.

"Yes, but she's with Viktor Krum. Every day that they're together breaks his heart. Eventually, that pain could turn into bitterness. That, combined with his jealousy of Harry and his need to be important could very well make him turn to the Dark Lord."

"I see your point," Sirius said slowly, thinking. "But, isn't that the same logic that landed me in Azkaban? That I was bitter about Regina's death and jealous of James' perfect life, so I became a Death Eater to seek revenge?"

"Well, Sirius, you were bitter. And jealous, although you tried to hide it," Isabelle responded.

"Will you stop talking in bloody Gaelic? I think all of us agree with you. But, what do we do about it?" Snape said.

"Take away his incentive to turn to Lord Voldemort. He desperately wants to have something none of his other brothers do. And, not being poor would help him, too. So, I'm thinking that I could offer him a job to monitor my Muggle Studies lab that pays a decent wage. That way, he could afford to buy the things that he wants. Give him some pride. I need the help, anyway."

"I think Ron would respond to that sort of offer. It would certainly make life easier if we didn't have to worry about one of Harry's friends betraying him. I can't imagine what would happen if Lord Voldemort killed off the rest of the heirs." Professor McGonagall shuddered.

"Well, I think we have matters under control for now. Or under as much control as they can be, under the circumstances. See all of you next week, then?" Professor Dumbledore stood from his desk, escorting the professors out of his office.

-----

Wind whipped around the castle, blowing sheets of rain nearly horizontal as thunder echoed around the halls. On any other Saturday, no student would even dream of going outside in such bad weather. But, today was the first Quiddich match of the year, so students and professors rainproofed their outfits as best as they could, and slowly sloshed to the Quiddich pitch. Inside their locker room, Fred and George were trying to give the team last minute pointers, but they could barely be heard over the howling storm. 

"Ok, Harry, you know that as soon as you get the snitch, we get to dry off. No pressure or anything," Fred said.

"And Ron, we need you to keep the score low so that Harry can get the snitch as soon as he sees it," George added.

The Gryffindor team walked onto the pitch, their uniforms soaked within thirty seconds. Fred shook hands with the Ravenclaw captain, and the teams were off. Harry charmed his glasses so that the rain would fall off them, but visibility was so poor that it didn't really matter. The game went on blindly for about thirty minutes, when the rain stopped suddenly. Cheers erupted from the stands, as well as drying charms. Lee Jordan began his commentary, supervised as usual by Professor McGonagall.

"Well, the rain seems to have lifted just in time for the Quiddich match to get underway. Katie Bell has the Quaffle. She passes it to Alicia Spinnet, who shoots – scores! Ten-zero to Gryffindor. Hilary Jones from Ravenclaw has the Quaffle – by the way, Hilary, would you have a drink with me in The Three Broomsticks next weekend? Sorry, Professor. She's just the prettiest girl in the school."

"Lee, please concentrate on the game and not your love life," Professor McGonagall warned.

"Anyway, Jones from Ravenclaw passes the Quaffle to McGill. Ouch! That looked like it hurt." Fred hit Erika McGill, another Ravenclaw chaser, in her rear end with a Bludger. "Spinnet from Gryffindor recovers. Alicia passes to Angelina Johnson of Gryffindor, another of Hogwarts' lovely ladies--"

"Lee!"

"Johnson races down the field. She shoots – oh, no! The Ravenclaw keeper got lucky this time. Still Ten-zero to Gryffindor. Erika McGill of Ravenclaw recovers the Quaffle. McGill passes to Rachel Joyner of Ravenclaw. Joyner – hey! That's a trick move," he shouted as Rachel and Erika executed a complicated passing pattern down the field. "McGill with the Quaffle. Is she shooting or passing? Shooting, Ron! Watch out! McGill misses! But, my buddy Stephen over here wants to know if you'd spend some time with him next weekend, Erika."

"Lee! Are you running a dating service?" Professor McGonagall barked.

"No, Professor."

"Then keep your mind on the game."

"You know, this reminds me of when you used to do the commentary for our Quiddich matches," Sirius said to Remus.

"You said stuff like that?" Isabelle said in amazement.

"Much, much worse," Remus replied with a wicked grin.

"Why am I not surprised?"

They strained to hear Lee's commentary over the chanting, which was growing progressively louder. The game had gone on for two and a half hours, without a single Ravenclaw goal. Gryffindor was ahead 100-zero. No matter what the Ravenclaw chasers did, Ron managed to deflect the shot. It looked like he was completely at home in goal.

"Jones of Ravenclaw shoots again – deflected by the Gryffindor keeper! Ron Weasley, the Gryffindor keeper, in his first appearance, could do something that hasn't been done in centuries – a shutout." The Gryffindor stands were utter pandemonium. "Gryffindor's newest team member is also riding a Firebolt, which is still the fastest broomstick in the world. Hopefully England will invest in some before the next Quiddich Cup, because we could use all the help we can get. Speaking of investing, rumor has it that Ron Weasley's broomstick was financed by working in the Muggle Studies lab. Can I have a job, too, Professor Evans?" She shook her head no firmly. "Can't blame a man for trying. Wait – Cho Chang of Ravenclaw dives – has she seen the Snitch?"

Harry looked down, where Cho was almost on the ground. He blinked, not seeing the Snitch, before realizing that she was trying to trick him into following her for some reason. He scanned the field for ten minutes, before seeing a tiny speck of gold right under Fred's shoe. He bolted for Fred, quickly followed by Cho. Right before Cho caught up to him, Harry grabbed the Snitch in his outstretched hand.

The reaction from the Gryffindor stands almost made them fall down, as students hugged each other, cheered, and raced to the pitch to congratulate the team. A mob of students rushed over to Ron, and lifted him onto their shoulders, carrying him back to Gryffindor Tower for a party. For once, he was the hero because he shut out the Ravenclaw team from scoring. Fred and George nicked mountains of food from the kitchens, and the party went on all day and well into the night. Professor McGonagall didn't even bother trying to quiet the students down, knowing the effort was futile. Everyone seemed to want to talk to Ron, who enjoyed the attention. But, after a few hours, he needed a break, so he walked over to Hermione, who was trying to study in a corner.

"How can you study in the middle of a party?" Ron asked her.

"Huh? Hold on," she said, pulling earplugs out of her ears.

"What are those?"

"Earplugs. They block out sound. I need to get this work done, since the Quiddich match was unusually long."

"I thought you weren't going to come because you didn't have anyone to sit with." Ron was surprised.

"Well, Viktor wanted to see Harry play, so I decided to come with him."

"Oh." His face fell somewhat.

"You played really well, though. Even though I did miss hanging out with you in the stands."

"Really?"

"Really." She gave him a lopsided grin. His heart skipped a beat, as he felt his face turn red.

"No way you're doing homework tonight, Hermione," Fred butted in. "Come on." He pulled her out of her seat, pushing her into the middle of the party. Surprisingly, she laughed, and joined in the madness. What everyone didn't know is that right before Ron interrupted her, she had just finished her homework, anyway.

-----

Isabelle was sitting on top of the Astronomy tower, going over lesson plans, when something caught her eye in the distance. She couldn't quite make out what it was, but it was heading straight for the castle. After a few minutes, the shape became clearer. She dropped her lesson plans on the tower floor, racing through the castle, robes billowing behind her in Snape-like fashion. She bolted down the stairs, and through the grounds. 

"Hagrid!" she yelled.

He looked up at a blonde woman running towards him. His weary eyes didn't recognize her until she engulfed him in a huge bear hug, nearly knocking him to the ground. He pulled her off him, looking into her eyes.

"Isabelle Evans. I never thought I'd see yeh again." He began to cry, pulling out a small sheet, and blowing his nose loudly. "Look at yeh. All grown up now. I hear they've made yeh a professor. And you're a fine one, I'm sure."

She smiled. "I'm trying to be one. How was your trip?"

"Fine, fine. I'm headin' up to see Professor Dumbledore now."

"Can a lady escort you to his office?"

"Uh, of course."

"I know you've just come home and everything, but there's something that I wanted to ask you about," she began.

"What's that?"

"Nessie."

His eyes grew large, as he started to laugh. "Ah, she hasn't run for years now. Don' know how to fix her, I'm afraid."

"You still have her?"

"She's in a shed behind my house. She's a real mess, Isabelle."

"That's alright. I know how to fix them. I dated a race car mechanic once. Motorcycles aren't half as complicated. Just don't tell Sirius, ok? It's his Christmas present. Don't tell the children, either, for that matter. Knowing them, they'll slip up and tell him before the end of November."

"Um, are you, and uh, Sirius, um..." Hagrid stuttered.

"Seeing each other?"

"Yeah."

"Not romantically." Hagrid looked incredibly sheepish. "Don't worry," she reassured him. "I get asked that question a lot, for some reason. No clue why. I live with Remus, too. And I actually spend the majority of my time with Severus," she mused to herself, shrugging her shoulders.

They reached the entrance to Professor Dumbledore's office. Isabelle gave him another hug.

"Can I come visit you sometime?" she asked him.

"Anytime."

-----

Hagrid threw some wood on the dwindling fire in his large hut. Although he enjoyed spending time with Madame Maxime, and the trip was quite successful, he was happy to be home. He sat in front of the fire, petting Fang, when he heard a loud clamor at the door. 

"Hagrid! Are you in there?" came a female voice.

He opened the door, and Harry, Ron and Hermione let themselves in, sitting at the oversized table. He looked at Hermione as if seeing her for the first time.

"Is something wrong?" she asked him.

"No, no. I just remember yeh when yeh were a little baby and yer father would carry you around everywhere after yer mum died. You look just like her. Don't know why I never saw it before."

"Don't worry. No one did," she replied. "How was your trip?"

He began telling them about his trip, and all the interesting places he visited throughout the summer and fall. In between stories, he offered them treacle fudge, which they all refused politely. After a few minutes, Ron and Harry started talking about the Quiddich season. Hermione was about to doze off when she heard someone knocking on the door.

"Come in," Hagrid hollered. Isabelle walked in, shutting the door behind her.

"Oh, hi, y'all," she said to the children.

"Hi," they replied.

Isabelle turned to Hagrid, pulling him into the corner. "Which shed is it?" she whispered.

"Second one on the right," he replied.

"Remember – it's a secret," she said, giving him a mild secret-keeping charm, just in case he was tempted to tell.

"I promise," he assured her.

"Sorry I can't stay and chat, but I have some work to do. Good night," she said, walking out the door.

"Night," they called after her.

After visiting with Hagrid for about an hour more, Harry, Ron and Hermione headed back to Gryffindor tower. Ron had a shift to work in the Muggle Studies lab, Hermione needed to find a book on Repelling Charms in the library, and Harry was determined to find Cho and ask her if she wanted to have a drink with him on Saturday. Hermione had been bugging him for weeks about keeping his end of their deal, and time was running out quickly.

-----

The entire Hogwarts castle was utter chaos, as students and teachers exited en masse for a day off in Hogsmeade. After two months of being cooped up on the grounds, everyone was ready for a break. The only sad faces belonged to the first and second years, and the teachers who had to stay behind to monitor them, including Snape, who gave anyone detention if they so much as looked crossly in his direction. After three poor Hufflepuff girls got five days of detention, everyone stayed at least ten feet away from him. 

Harry and Ron quickly walked around Snape, trying not to draw attention to themselves, and walked out onto the castle grounds. They followed the rest of the student body into Hogsmeade, and quickly ducked into the candy shop.

"Hey, look at these," Ron said, examining a bag full of crawling gummi worms. Harry stared at the worms moving inside the bag for a minute, and had to walk away, sick to his stomach. The prospect of meeting Cho at The Three Broomsticks in an hour was making him queasy. Ron followed him, carrying the worms and toothflossing stringmints.

"Here," he said with a wicked grin, handing Harry the stingmints. "You'll need these for later." Harry's face turned an odd shade of green, but he took the stringmints and paid for them. They walked in and out of stores, buying assorted things. Finally, it was time for Harry to meet Cho. On their way to The Three Broomsticks, Parvati Patil walked up to them, batting her eyelashes coyly.

"Hey, Harry. Hi, Ron." She gave Ron a dazzling smile, which made his ears turn pink slightly.

"Hi, Parvati," he said, giving Harry a funny look. Harry just shrugged his shoulders, and they started walking again. She followed them, chatting cheerfully, until they got to the pub's entrance, where Cho was already waiting for them.

"Hi, Harry." His already queasy stomach flipped when she took his hand to lead him inside the building. Right before they walked inside, Cho stopped and turned around. "Hey, do either of you want to join us?"

Before Ron or Harry could say anything, Parvati grabbed Ron's arm, and steered him to a table right in the middle of the pub. Harry and Ron asked the girls what they wanted to drink, and walked up to the bar with their order.

"Sorry, man," Ron told Harry apologetically. "She didn't give me a chance to say no."

"That's ok," Harry replied. "It's hard to have a private conversation in here, anyway."

"I don't know. Look over there." He pointed to a corner table, where Charlie and Fleur were deeply engrossed in conversation, completely oblivious to the world around them. After a minute, they paid for their drinks, and walked back to the table, where Parvati and Cho were laughing and joking like old friends.

About twenty minutes later, Hermione walked by the pub with Viktor. She suddenly stopped in front of the window, staring at Ron with Parvati. She didn't know what hurt worse – that Harry and Ron didn't invite her along, or that they seemed to be having such a good time without her. Especially Ron. Parvati looked up, saw Hermione in the window, and put her arm possessively on Ron's, giving Hermione a triumphant look.

"Is anything wrong?" Viktor asked her.

"No, nothing's wrong," Hermione lied.

He gave her a funny look while looking down at his watch. "Well, it's my turn to play babysitter back at the castle. Want to come back with me?"

She looked inside The Three Broomsticks, and then back at Viktor. "Yes," she said, sadly turning around to walk back to Hogwarts.

-----

Sara O'Neill sat on a park bench, idly watching the people walk by. She enjoyed people watching, especially on days where the Hogwarts students and faculty invaded the town. The whole area radiated a restless energy. She couldn't imagine teaching at Hogwarts, being cooped up for months with all of the children. A young woman quickly walked by her with someone who must have been her boyfriend, by the way he had his arm around her shoulder, talking quietly to her. There was something about this girl that seemed strangely familiar – especially those unusual grey eyes. She shrugged it off, and opened the newspaper to the Style section, stretching out her legs in front of her. Suddenly, she heard a horrific thud, as someone tumbled to the ground in front of her. 

"Oh, my goodness! Are you ok?" she asked, as the person painfully sat up, holding his head in his hands. "I'm so incredibly sorry. I didn't realize that someone would trip over my foot."

"That's alright. I should have been watching where I was going," he replied, stopping the bleeding in his nose.

"I'm so sorry," she repeated, blushing. She instantly recognized him as soon as he looked up at her. Sirius Black. He was four years ahead of her at Hogwarts, and she doubted that he remembered her.

"Sara O'Neill? Is that you?"

She smiled and nodded. He stood up and carefully sat on the park bench, trying to keep his head from spinning. When he looked over at her, his head started spinning for a completely different reason. He remembered Sara as a gawky, freckle-faced fourteen year old girl with her nose always in a book. And now – now, she was positively stunning, with beautiful strawberry-blonde hair that glowed in the sunlight.

"So, what are you doing now?" he asked casually.

"I own the jewelry store here in town. Mostly I do custom work, like the family jewelry that some wizarding families still give as a tradition."

"Really?" he said thoughtfully, narrowing his grey eyes. The same eyes as the girl who walked past her earlier, Sara realized. She must be his daughter. What was her name again? Something unusual, but she couldn't remember what it was.

"Really. Would you let me take you to lunch as my way of apologizing for nearly breaking your nose?"

So, that answers the question of whether or not she's seeing anyone, Sirius decided. He hadn't been on any type of date since before Regina died. Between being the single parent of an infant, Azkaban, being on the run, and trying to raise two teenagers, he hadn't found the time to develop a relationship with anyone new. Not that he wasn't lonely, of course.

"Only if you let me pick the place," he replied.

"It's a deal. Where do you want to go?"

He thought of all of the places in Hogsmeade, realizing that no matter where they decided to go, someone from Hogwarts was bound to see them. And with all of the negative publicity that the family received, the last thing that Sirius wanted to do was to add to it. Not to mention that he wasn't quite sure how Hermione or Harry would react to the idea of him dating someone, and he didn't want either of them to find out secondhand.

"Well, it's my day off, so I'd like to go somewhere that isn't full of either teachers or students," he said slowly. "And, the only place that I know of that fits that description is my house." He looked at her face to gauge her reaction. She thought for a moment, and smiled.

"Sure," she replied. They walked through town to the faculty grounds, chatting.

-----

Isabelle walked through the town square, admiring all of the festive Halloween decorations. She drew her cloak tighter around her body to fight off a chill. Scotland was much, much chillier this time of year than Virginia. She turned down an alleyway to make a short cut to her favorite clothing boutique when she felt a sharp pain on the back of her head. Her vision went blurry, and then everything was black. 

When she came to, she slowly opened her eyes. The room was dark, lit only through narrow beams of light streaming through closed window blinds. She realized that she was lying down on a bed and that someone had taken the time to place a blanket on top of her. She suddenly had the eerie feeling that someone was watching her, and tensed up.

"Wh-who's there?" she murmured through dry lips.

"Would you like something to drink? I didn't mean to hit you that hard," came a deep voice from the corner.

"Lucius," she said, relieved. "Haven't lost your flair for the dramatic, huh? Yes, water would be lovely."

"Expecting someone else?"

"I certainly wasn't expecting you. It's been a long time. How would you know that I was in town?" she asked, slowly sitting up and taking a sip of water.

"Draco wrote home about the day trip to Hogsmeade. And it has been a long time, Isabelle." He sighed. "Now I know why you left things the way you did." Lucius Malfoy sat down on the edge of the bed, and placed his head in his hands. He was the image of a broken man.

"I am sorry, Lucius."

"Don't be. We knew from the start that it would never work."

"That's not true, and you know it."

"It is true. I knew you were using me, but I thought it was to get back at Remizov. Imagine my surprise when I discover that my mistress is Harry Potter's aunt," he said bitterly. "And the only reason you wanted me was so that I would tell you my plans to bring Harry to Lord Voldemort. Which I did, of course, like a fool. Tell me, Isabelle, was it ever about anything other than keeping Harry alive? Was it ever about me?"

"Not at first. But then, things changed. You have to believe that," she said, stretching her hand out to touch his face. His fingers gently enclosed hers, as he pulled her towards him. He held her, stroking her hair, while she cried on his shoulder. "Do you ever wonder what would've happened if we were different people? If I wasn't an Evans, and you weren't a Malfoy?"

"Every day. You know what I think about?"

"What?" She smiled at him. Lucius didn't realize how much he missed her smile until now. It was like pure sunshine.

"That beach house in Brighton, remember?" She nodded. "How we used to spend our days out on the water, and watch the sun set over the sea. I can't go there now without thinking of you. Before you left, I had planned to leave Narcissa, or otherwise dispose of her, so that I could be with you. Since you loved that house so much, I figured that we could move there, with Draco, and Katrina, and whoever else came along."

"Katrina," Isabelle said hollowly. "I'm afraid Sergei took care of that part of your dream."

"Did he know?"

"No, he had no idea about us. He is just that evil."

"Why didn't you ask for me? You know I would have been there for you." Lucius knew why, but he wanted to hear her say it. She didn't say anything. "It was because of Black, wasn't it?"

"Yes. You know he escaped from Azkaban the same day Katrina was born. I never expected him to escape, but as soon as he did, I knew that it was only a matter of time before--"

"Before you exposed your true identity to help him. You sacrificed me for him."

"It's not that clear-cut, Lucius, and you know it. We made choices long ago that make our relationship impossible."

"You could have refused to expose your identity for him."

"And allow the man who killed Lily to kill her only son? And deny Sirius the opportunity of raising his daughter? You could have left Lord Voldemort's service to be with me."

She stuck a nerve. "If I leave Lord Voldemort's inner circle, they will kill my entire family. You know that. I have no choice but to do his bidding."

"Yes, I hear that you are embezzling funds from Gringotts' bank to finance Lord Voldemort's operations."

"Unfortunately."

"I tried to convince Sirius to take control of the bank from you, so that you wouldn't have to be in that position. He wouldn't hear a word of it."

"Perhaps he does not find your tactics as persuasive as I did," Lucius spat.

"It's not like that between Sirius and I."

"He's not your lover, then?"

"No. There has been no one since you. I'm not sure there ever will be anyone else."

"There will be. You know how I know that?"

She looked in his sorrowful blue eyes. "How?" Isabelle said softly.

"Because your heart is too full of love to be without someone to share it with. Me, I must content myself with my bitter existence, but you will move on. And I will not stand in your way. I love you too much for that." His voice choked. "No matter what happens, or how we meet again, please know that I would never hurt you. Even if I wanted to, I couldn't."

"We're the epitome of star-crossed lovers, aren't we? Shakespeare himself couldn't have written a more twisted story of fate than ours."

"I know I am fortune's fool," he said, tilting her face up, and gently kissing her. She willingly responded, wrapping her arms around his neck. Their kisses became deeper, more passionate, as they released two years of separation. Almost instinctively, Lucius lowered her on the bed, like he had done so many times before. Suddenly, he stopped, sitting up.

"What's wrong?" Isabelle said, confused.

"Nothing's wrong. That's the problem. I came here today to tell you goodbye, and, well, look at us."

"You have a funny way of saying goodbye to someone," she said, blinking back tears.

"Don't cry, Isabelle. We knew this day would come," he pleaded, trying not to cry himself. He felt like his heart was being torn out his chest. She had no idea how much he wanted to stay with her, to show her exactly how much he loved her.

"I know. Staying here would only put off the inevitable." She stood up, and walked to the door, shaking. "Goodbye, Lucius," she said, closing the door behind her, fighting the impulse to walk back into the room.

Tears stung Isabelle's eyes as she blindly walked out of the inn, and onto the street. She quickly walked through the town, numb to her surroundings. She didn't realize where she was walking until she bumped into the cemetery gate. Fumbling with the latch, she opened the gate. She walked the familiar path through various family plots, until she reached a large plot under a shade tree. The latch to the plot was rusty, but she managed to open it after a couple of tries. She walked past several graves, stopping at a small headstone in the far right corner. Isabelle collapsed in front of Katrina's tiny grave, sobbing hysterically. Mercifully, she fainted.

Two hours later, large raindrops began to fall. The rain pelted her face, slowly waking her up. In the darkness, Isabelle stood up on unsteady legs, and turned to walk home. She pulled her hood of her cloak over her head, so that no one would recognize her as she stumbled through town, still crying. Instead of turning for her house, she walked to a small cabin on the other side of the faculty grounds, and made a feeble knock at the door.

Severus Snape opened the door, and widened his eyes at the pitiful sight in front of him. Isabelle was soaked from head to toe. Her cloak was dirty and rumpled, like she had rolled around in the dirt for hours. When she looked at him, her red, swollen face highlighted the pain in her eyes.

"What happened to you?"

"Lucius." Her legs buckled, and she tumbled into the living room, partially unconscious.

His jaw clenched in anger, as he bit back the words he truly wanted to say. "What about him?" he asked, trying to keep his temper in check.

"H-he was i-in Hogsmeade," she managed to stammer out.

"For business or pleasure?" he said sarcastically.

"Severus, please don't."

"Don't what? Don't say that you knew what you were getting into when you decided to have an affair with him? Don't say that it's your fault you got attached to him? Or that--"

"That what? That it's my fault that I live in fear that either Sergei or Sirius will find out that--?"

"That Katrina's father could be Lucius Malfoy," Snape finished. He raised an eyebrow at the look on her face. "Isabelle, you are a scientist. You cannot ignore simple biological realities. Katrina could not have had green eyes if Remizov was her father. Black and green eyes cannot combine that way. Blue and green eyes, on the other hand, can."

"I am a chemist, not a biologist, nor am I a geneticist. However, I do know that two blonde parents cannot have a child with black hair. Katrina's hair looked exactly like Sergei's."

"And she had Lucius' dimpled chin."

"I have a slight dimple in my chin. She could have gotten that from me."

Severus changed the subject. "What did Lucius want?"

"To say goodbye. Nothing more."

"Did you want something more?"

"No. Yes. I don't know. I'm just so confused, Severus. I don't know what to think about it all." She slowly got up from the floor and walked to the couch, limping slightly.

"Hip bothering you?" he asked, clearly concerned.

"A little," she admitted. "I blacked out for a little while, and I think I fell on it."

"Blacked out?"

She smiled at his pained expression. "I'm fine. Really." She could tell that he was not convinced in the slightest. "It's my heart that's hurting me, not my hip." She told him what happened earlier in the day with Lucius. When she finished, Snape looked at her with an odd look on his face.

"You lied to him, Isabelle, whether you meant to or not."

"What are you talking about?" She was completely befuddled.

"You did sacrifice him for Black. You didn't expose your identity for Harry, because you said that you would teach him wandless magic regardless of whether or not he knew who you were. It was all for Sirius, wasn't it?"

Isabelle had a faraway look on her face. "No, it wasn't for him, Severus. It was for someone else."

"Who?" He crossed his arms across his chest.

"Regina."

He paled slightly. "What does Regina Potter have to do with anything?"

"Regina Black. You never forgave him for that did you? Don't look away, Severus. You thought that I didn't know? All of those times you took me to the cemetery, you never once left her gravesite. And the way you treat her daughter, the way you hate her because she looks so much like Regina."

"She acts nothing like her mother."

"You hate Gracie for that, too. Because you see her father in her. You loathe her because she is Sirius' daughter, not yours."

"You assume too much," Snape said angrily, but the truth of her words showed clearly in his eyes.

"Do I?" she said through narrowed eyes.

"As I said earlier, what does she have to do with your decision to expose your identity?" His eyes begged her to answer his question, and to leave his feelings for Regina Black alone.

"When she was dying, she asked to see me. Among other things, she made me promise two things. One, that I wear the wedding dress that she designed for me when I got married. We were playing around with designs one day, and came up with one that suited me. I think she was doing a lot of wedding dresses at the time. Anyway, she was really adamant about it, but I'm not really sure why. Well, I eloped, so I didn't have time to have the dress made, and I broke my promise to her. After that, I swore that I would keep the second promise at all costs."

"Which was?"

"To keep the family together, no matter what. She said that I was the only person now that could truly understand Sirius. She asked me to make sure that he was happy. So, when you asked me if I wanted to expose my identity, I was torn between two worlds. I love Lucius, or the closest thing to love that I can feel. But, I had to give Sirius the opportunity to choose whether to find Gracie and I or not – for Gina's sake." They sat quietly for a minute, with Isabelle's head resting on Snape's shoulder. Isabelle suddenly noticed the suitcase sitting beside the door.

"I thought you weren't leaving until Halloween," she said.

"Plans have changed. I can't wait until Tuesday anymore. I have to leave tomorrow."

"Why?"

"You know I can't tell you that."

"Have Dumbledore send me instead," Isabelle said in a quiet, yet determined voice.

"What? Absolutely not."

"Why not? My business is finished here. No one needs me, or would even miss me if I'm gone. If you die, then Dumbledore loses his best connection to the Dark Lord. If I die, it doesn't really matter."

Severus placed his hands on her shoulders and looked straight into her eyes. "How can you even say that? It does matter if you live or die. The children need you, Isabelle. You just can't walk into their lives, and walk back out again. They love you."

"They will get over it."

"Oh, yes, like you got over Regina, Lily, James and Sirius walking in and out of your life."

"You forgot Remus. And, that's different. They were the only parents I had."

"You're the only mother either Harry or Hermione have. It is no different."

"Sirius is their guardian, not me. My relationship to either of them depends on his goodwill. I'm sure that if he found out about Lucius and I, he would kick me out of the family, which would be traumatic for the children. So, I want to leave on my own terms."

"You don't know what he would say."

"Oh, sure. Like he'd want his only child to be raised by a who--"

"Enough, Isabelle. Everyone makes mistakes. Your precious Sirius isn't perfect, either. He, of all people, should not pass judgment on you."

"What are you talking about?"

"He never told you? Why am I not surprised?" Severus mused.

"Told me what?" He didn't say a word. She narrowed her eyes. "You have never hesitated to insult him in the past. Why wouldn't you take advantage of this opportunity to discredit him? Who are you protecting?"

"You. I am trying to protect you."

"From what?"

"From this. All of it. Have you ever had a happy moment in your life? A happy, normal moment, where you didn't have a care in the world?"

"Lots of them. Every time I dance, it's like the rest of the world doesn't exist. It's just me, and the music. Other than that, no. Why do you think I want to go in your place? To protect the children, so that they can grow up to do all of the things I never did. And never will."

"You are only thirty years old. You are much too young to be giving up on happiness."

"Why not? You did."

"Yes, I did." He sighed. "And it was a mistake. I'm not going to let you sacrifice yourself out of guilt. You did what you had to do under the circumstances. I don't agree with what you did. But, that doesn't mean that you don't deserve to be happy. You're not going."

"Fine," she said listlessly. "Who cares what I do anyway?"

"Have you heard a single word that I've been saying?" Snape raised his voice. "I care about you, Isabelle. Do you think I've been taking care of you for fourteen years for my health? Child, there's nothing that I haven't done or wouldn't do for you." She smiled through her tears. "There, that's much better. Why don't you go home and take one of those four hour baths that you like so much."

She looked down at her bedraggled appearance. "I think I need it. Thanks, for everything." She gave him a big hug, and set off for home.


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

Across the faculty grounds, Sirius could not believe that of all days, nearly the entire family would have to be at home the one day that he wanted to be alone with someone. An hour after he and Sara arrived at the house, Harry came in with Cho to hang out on the patio. Hermione stomped through the front door not long afterwards, storming upstairs to her room and slamming the door without saying a word to anyone. Remus breezed in with a woman named Ullah, and he had only left half an hour ago. Sirius had given up on any hope of privacy by the time Isabelle walked into the living room.

His eyes widened. "What happened to you?"

"Oh, just got caught in the rainstorm," she replied. She looked at him, and then at Sara, giving him a knowing smile. "Please excuse my appearance. I'm Isabelle," she said, extending her hand.

"Nice to meet you. I'm Sara O'Neill," she said, shaking her hand.

"Forgive my rudeness, but it's been a long day, so I'm going to head for bed," Isabelle excused herself, walking up the stairs and into her bedroom.

Not long afterwards, Sara left for home. Sirius closed the front door, and turned to walk up the stairs. He paused at Hermione's door. He knew that she was upset about something, and seeing him with a woman probably didn't help matters. But, there was no light peeking from under her closed door, so he assumed that she was already asleep. Deciding that talking to her could wait until the morning, he went into his room and fell asleep. A couple of hours later, he woke up suddenly. He co.cked his hid to one side, and listened carefully. It sounded like Isabelle was saying something – but what? He crept into their shared bathroom, and listened. To his surprise, she was calling for him. Was she hurt? Sick? He rushed to her side. She opened her eyes, and placed her hand on his face, as if seeing him for the first time.

"Sirius? You came," she said gratefully.

"I heard you calling for me in the other room. What's wrong?"

"What isn't wrong?" she said in a deadened voice. "No matter. You're here – how did you escape? I tried for two months, and couldn't figure out a way. How did you find me? Did Snape send you?"

"We live in the same house, Isabelle." What was she talking about? he thought.

A mirthless laugh escaped from her lips. "For the past twelve years, you've only been near me in my mind. And now, as I lay here dying, you come for me. What a twisted justice Fate has given me."

"You're not dying. I think you're having a nightmare." He shook her by the shoulders harshly.

"Oh, this nightmare is all too real." She looked at him through empty, glassy eyes. "The doctors say that I'm lucky to be alive. Lucky – can you believe that? I'm tired of living, Sirius. Tired of my hopes and dreams being crushed at the heel of Fate. Isn't it ironic? The same day I find out my daughter will die, I can tell you that your daughter lives."

"She does?" He decided to play along.

"Yes," she said tiredly. "As does Harry, but you know that. Snape's out looking for him now. He ran away from Petunia's house, not that I blame him. Those poor children. Why is it that the children always suffer for their parents' sins? Always the innocent suffer. My darling Katrina. None of this is her fault. Death would be far too easy of a punishment for me. No, I will live a long life in this hell that I've created."

"Punishment for what? Isabelle? Talk to me," he pleaded. It was no use. She had fallen into a sound sleep. His mind raced. What on earth was she talking about? He walked back into his bedroom, and tried to go back to sleep, but couldn't. After a half hour of tossing and turning, he decided to find the one person who could give him some answers. He walked over to Snape's cabin, and knocked on the door.

"What do you want? It's four in the morning." The absolute last person Snape wanted to see anytime, let alone in the middle of the night, stood on his front stoop.

"Some answers." He described Isabelle's nightmare.

"Why don't you ask her?"

"Because I'm guessing that she was dreaming about when Katrina was born, and she won't tell me anything about the time period when she left her husband."

"Then it's clearly none of your business." He started to shut the door.

"She is my business," Sirius said firmly, blocking the door with his foot. Snape raised an eyebrow, thinking.

"I could tell you, but only on two conditions. One, that you swear not to disown her or limit her contact with the children. And two, that you tell me exactly why she is your business. What is the nature of this unusual bond between the two of you?"

"Fine. After you."

"No, I insist," Snape said silkily, opening the door to let him in. Sirius knew that he had little bargaining power, so he began telling their story.

He sighed. "Well, because her mother was older when Isabelle was born, her father hired a nanny named Maria to help out around the house. The fashion those days was to have Irish nannies, because they were incredibly hard workers and dirt cheap. Maria only spoke Gaelic, which was fine because Isabelle's mother was Irish and could speak to her perfectly well. Shortly after she was born, Mrs. Evans was diagnosed with breast cancer. The time period she was going through treatments was roughly the same time period Isabelle was learning to walk and talk. Petunia and Lily were away at school, so the only language spoken around her regularly was Gaelic. So, Gaelic's her mother tongue, not English."

"Go on." This explained the lapses into Gaelic when she was angry, Snape thought.

"Well, when both of her parents died, Petunia moved back in. The first thing she did was fire Maria in an attempt to bring Isabelle under better disciplinary control. Apparently she was quite wild and didn't mind Petunia at all."

"What does this have to do with you?" He was growing impatient.

"I'm getting to that part. By the time that she was eight, Isabelle was a nightmare, according to the letters Petunia sent Lily at school. She would skip school regularly, and when she was there, she wasn't reading or writing at anywhere near a normal level. She was in special education classes, and was labeled as moderately retarded by her school teachers."

Snape snorted. "Retarded?"

"Hard to believe, huh? Petunia wanted to send her away to an asylum, but Lily felt badly for her and decided to try to raise her herself. We wanted to support Lily, so the rest of us moved to Dover with her. When we got there, Isabelle had run off, so we all went looking for her. By some act of fate, I found her in a very well-hidden old Roman fort. I said something to her, I don't remember quite what, and she snapped at me in perfect Gaelic. Anyway, I discovered that she could understand some English, but couldn't speak it. But, she had an incredible mastery of Gaelic for someone her age. I managed to talk her into coming in to dinner, and explained the situation to Lily. She had no clue about what was going on. Meanwhile, Isabelle was chatting away, telling me where things like pots and pans were. For the first time in two years, she could have an actual conversation with someone."

"So, she bonded with you because only you could speak to her?"

"Exactly. She would actually wait patiently on the staircase every morning, waiting for me to come downstairs for breakfast. That first morning, she was a bit of a holy terror, eating with no manners at all and knocking things over everywhere. I asked her what was wrong and she told me that Petunia said that nice girls only eat with their right hands, and that she was embarrassingly stupid and clumsy. I told Lily that, and Lily asked me to tell her that she could eat using whatever hand she liked. So, Isabelle immediately switched hands, and started eating with flawless grace. Lily was livid. Obviously Isabelle was not retarded. She couldn't read because she didn't speak English, and even if she could speak English, she couldn't write because she was left-handed. Lily swore that she would never let any child of hers anywhere near Petunia. I think she's been turning over in her grave these past fourteen years."

Snape thought carefully. "Fine. After she graduated from high school, she decided to stay in Williamsburg to go to the College of William and Mary for undergraduate work. She was a chemistry and secondary education double major, and went to New York City to train with the Remizov ballet company several times a week. She actually made the troupe when she was seventeen, but she didn't tour with them until she graduated from William and Mary when she was twenty-two. She started graduate work at New York University in their doctoral program for chemistry, and did her research for her thesis when she was away on tour. Her research was on designer drugs – drugs that are created in laboratories that are far more potent and valuable on the black market. She discovered that there was a large drug cartel headquartered in New York, but couldn't find out who or what was in charge of it."

"What does this have to do with Remizov?"

"He was in charge of the drug cartel. The ballet was just his legit business. He found out Isabelle was the best dancer around, a pureblood witch, or so he thought, and an award-winning chemist, so he charmed her into marrying him. She discovered what he was, and tried to leave him, but she was stuck because of her contract with the ballet company. She danced for him, but refused to design or manufacture drugs. He didn't like that too much, and tried to physically persuade her into doing what he wanted."

"He beat her?" Sirius said through clenched teeth.

"Daily. At first, she fought him, but after a while, she just took it. No one helped her, except for the house-elves, who mopped her up after he was finished with her."

"Why didn't you do something about it?" Sirius was irate at Snape's calm tone.

"I would have, except that before she married him, we had a huge argument. She married him over my objection, so when she found out I was right, she was too ashamed to contact me. I had no idea about what was going on until much later. The next summer, her contract was up, and she refused to renew it until she discovered that Remizov was part of a plan to bring Harry to Voldemort. Well, she decided to stick around for another year to find out what was going on. That fall, I got my first letter from her, warning me about Quirrell. At the end of the school year, Remizov decided to punish Isabelle for defying him for two years. So, he had her arrested on fabricated charges of attempted murder of him, and threw her into Azkaban."

"What?" The thought of her in that hell hole made Sirius sick.

"After a month of solitary confinement, Remizov came to see her, and was surprised at her calmness. She spat in his face, so he made sure a Dementor was stationed outside her door at all times. About two weeks later, Lucius Malfoy was at the prison, getting some information for Lord Voldemort, and saw her in her cell. He felt sorry for her, and convinced Remizov to drop the charges. At that point, she was basically catatonic, as you can imagine what the Dementors could do with someone who's led her life. Remizov let her out of prison partially to save face with Lord Voldemort, because the Dark Lord trusts Malfoy's opinions about things, and partially because rehearsals for the Nutcracker were about to begin, and he needed her to dance or he would lose a lot of money in lost ticket sales. He took her to the lake district, but she developed a chest infection because she just sat on a porch outside, staring at the distance. Remizov was desperate at that point, and asked Malfoy if he could take her to his beach house in Brighton."

"Why Brighton?"

"Because he was talking to her one night, and the mention of southern England was the only thing that changed her expression somewhat. And Lucius has a spectacular house there, right on the beach. Anyway, they went to Brighton, and she sat on the porch in a chair, just like she did before. Remizov hired a nurse to care for her during the day, and he began commuting to London to take care of business. Eventually, he would stay overnight every now and then, leaving her alone to sit and stare at the waves. One day, Lucius came home with him. Isabelle was wandering around the house aimlessly when she overheard them talking about a plan to bring Harry to Lord Voldemort. She asked Remizov about it later, but he wouldn't tell her anything. So, she decided to try Lucius."

"Oh, God. She didn't." Sirius was developing a pounding headache. This was much, much worse than he originally thought.

"She did. Like any man who comes within a fifty-mile radius of her, he fell madly in love with her from day one. When Remizov would go away to work, he would stay behind with her and--"

"I don't need details," he spat. "Where was Narcissa during all of this?"

"In Bermuda with Draco. They've been separated for years. Isabelle got all sorts of information from Lucius, and passed it along to me. I should have wondered why he would confide in her. To keep from making anyone suspicious, she began dancing again and spending time with Sergei. This arrangement worked nicely for her, until he wanted to move back to St. Petersburg for the spring. He wanted to show off to his friends that at last, he was to have his heir." Snape smiled grimly. "They were in London a couple of months later, supervising a production of Swan Lake, when I saw her for the first time since she got married. We talked, and I convinced her that the baby wasn't safe as long as there was a remote chance that she wasn't Remizov's."

Sirius reeled. He couldn't believe what he was hearing. "And?"

"She told him they were through, and walked out of the theatre. She thought that if she left him in a public place, he would be less likely to hurt her or the baby. She was walking down the steep, tall marble staircase outside, when he made two stairs below her disappear. She didn't notice them because she was getting quite big at that point, and couldn't see what was directly below her. She fell, all the way to the bottom, shattering her hip because she was trying to protect the baby as she fell. The doctors had no choice but to deliver Katrina immediately, but she wasn't as far along as they had thought. She wasn't viable. I found Isabelle right before the doctors told her the news."

"Was her husband there?"

"No. I would have killed him on the spot if he even tried to come near her. As soon as I found her, I had her and the baby moved to St. Mungo's. He would never look for her there. Besides, I had hoped that the doctors there would be able to find a miracle that Muggle medicine couldn't. She wanted that baby so desperately." His voice broke. "She was rushed into emergency surgery to reconstruct her hip, and before she went under anesthesia, one of the nurses said that you had escaped from Azkaban. I'll never forget the look on her face."

"A odd look of hopeless amazement," Sirius said, mostly to himself.

"Yes. While she was in surgery, Harry ran away from Petunia's house, so as soon as she came to, I told her what happened. And that Dumbledore wanted me to find Harry. I did not want to leave her, but she insisted. When I came back, the nurses said that she kept calling for you. She said that she could die in peace now that you were free, whatever that meant. It was shaky those first few days whether she would live or die, but she lived, thank God. When the baby died, we took her to the cemetery, and buried her in the Potter plot with the rest of your family."

"Where? I've never noticed another grave."

"It's unmarked, so you wouldn't."

"Why would she dream about this now?"

"Lucius was in Hogsmeade yesterday."

"Is he the father of her child, then?" Sirius could barely form the words through his disbelief and anger.

"I don't know. If she does, she isn't telling, and it's better that way. As long as Lucius thinks that he could be Katrina's father, he will protect Isabelle from Remizov. Who has a very large bounty on her head."

"Are they together now?"

"Not anymore. It's too dangerous for either of them."

"I see. Who knows?"

"Just her, Lucius, me, you, and a house-elf who works here now named Dobby. He cared for her before Harry tricked Lucius into setting him free."

"And he's here, at Hogwarts?"

"Yes."

Sirius stood to leave. He had heard more than enough for his mind to comprehend. Before he walked out of the door, he turned to face Snape.

"Why did you tell me all of this?"

"Because if I die, someone needs to be able to help her," Snape shrugged.

Sirius walked out into the cool fall morning. The sun's first rays peeked over the horizon, highlighting the dew on the ground. He did not notice the beauty of his surroundings as he stormed through the faculty grounds, his mind focused on what he had just heard. As he walked towards the lake, he doubled over, and lost the contents of his stomach as a wave of revulsion tore through his body. How could she? his mind raced. He splashed his face with water from the lake in an effort to calm down, and forced himself to sit on the shore to think. His knee-jerk reaction was to go home and demand for an explanation from Isabelle. He imagined Malfoy being with her, and his stomach lurched again.

An inhuman anger surged through his veins until he felt like every blood vessel in his head was about to explode. He hadn't felt anywhere near this angry since that night at the Shrieking Shack, and even then, Harry was able to keep his temper in check. Sirius knew that if either Sergei Remizov or Lucius Malfoy came near him, he would gladly kill them with his bare hands. Even if it sent him back to Azkaban, it would be worth it to make sure they could never hurt Isabelle again.

He buried his head in his hands. Isabelle. His anger diminished somewhat when he thought of her. He couldn't believe that Snape made him promise not to disown her. Yes, he was upset with her. Very upset. But she was still his little girl. There was nothing she could do to make him turn away from her.

That's the problem, isn't it? Sirius thought to himself. He realized that a great deal of his anger stemmed from the simple fact that Isabelle wasn't a little girl anymore. That innocent, trusting blonde-haired girl with pigtails was gone forever. He saw just how blind he was when it came to her. She grew up, and he missed it. It was so easy to still think of her as a child; after all, a ten year age gap was an eternity back then. When they met, he was an adult; she was a small child. But now?

He had no delusions that he had missed Hermione and Harry's childhoods, and was thankful for a second chance with them. But for Isabelle, there was no second chance. There was no way to turn back the clock to fix past mistakes.

"I failed her," he whispered. Guilt plagued his mind as his anger turned on himself. He contributed as much to her undoing as anyone else did, because she trusted him, and like everyone else in her life, he walked out on her. He left her to die fourteen years ago. That one decision plagued his conscience continually throughout the years, as he imagined the horrible torturous death she must have endured at the hands of those Death Eaters that night. When he found out she was alive, he naively thought that since she was continually cheerful, her life had made a turn for the better.

The truth was a bitter pill to swallow. Her cheerfulness was a facade, masking a lifetime of loss and hurt. He smiled grimly as he realized that he raised her well – to never show weakness, or private pain. For the first time, he saw her as an adult, and as his equal.

He stood up, and headed for the main castle. There was some business he wished to take care of before he went back home. An hour later, he walked through the back door, and rummaged through the medicine cabinet above the sink for something to settle his stomach. When he turned around, he saw that a very depressed looking Hermione was slumped over the bar.

"What's wrong?" he gargled through a mouthful of water, swallowing several antacid tablets. She looked up at him with big, teary eyes. Finding Isabelle would just have to wait.

"Nothing," she sniffled.

Sirius raised an eyebrow. Whatever it was, she obviously wanted to talk about it. Must be a sensitive subject, he decided. At least all those years of interrogation training wouldn't go to waste. Somehow, he didn't think that the Ministry envisioned those skills being put to use to ferret out the problems of a fifteen year old girl.

"Ok," he said slowly. "So, what are your plans for today?"

"Dunno," came a mumbled reply.

"Weren't you supposed to study with Harry?"

"No. We finished our homework Friday night. Besides, he's probably off somewhere with Cho."

Getting somewhere, he thought. "What about Ron?"

"I don't want to talk about Ron," she snapped vehemently.

Paydirt. "Why's that?" he asked casually.

"Because....just because," she sputtered. "It's just too confusing."

"What's confusing?"

"Me. Him. Us." She started gesturing wildly. "He says one thing, but acts totally different. Why do guys do that?"

"Because we're stupid. What did he do?"

Hermione didn't even pretend that he didn't know what she was talking about. "I went into the dorm yesterday to get my Charms book, and when I went into the common room, he was kissing her," she spat.

"Who's her?"

"Parvati." She began crying. He walked around the island, and sat down on a stool beside her, passing her a tissue. She blew her nose loudly. "I don't know why I'm so upset. I mean, I'm dating someone already. It's just that..." Her voice trailed away, and she buried her head in her father's shoulder.

"That you're not sure how you feel about him and you feel betrayed."

She looked up. "How did you know that?"

"Lucky guess. Look, no matter what you feel for Ron, you can't avoid him forever. I love having you around, but it's not fair to hide out over here," Sirius said gently.

"I know," she sighed. "Speaking of relationships, who were you with yesterday?"

He blushed. "Just a friend."

"Uh-huh. Likely story." She flashed him a wicked grin. "Well, I have Charms reading to do, so I'm off to the library."

She scooted off the bar stool and headed out the door. He shook his head, thinking about how similar she was to Isabelle at that age. His face fell, and he stared at his glass of water. A rustling at the refrigerator jolted him out of his reverie.

"What a horrible night's sleep I had," Isabelle yawned, taking out a pitcher of iced tea and pouring herself a tall glass. "I feel like a Mack truck ran over me, backed up, and ran over me again."

Sirius looked at her, puzzled. What was a Mack truck? He gathered his thoughts together, and took a deep breath. This was not going to be easy.

"Why? Did you have a nightmare?"

A mirthless laugh escaped from her lips. "You could say that." She shook her head, as if to clear it of unpleasant memories. "Anyway, since Sev insists on going to the Death Eater party, I really should get dressed and head down to the dungeons to look at the lesson plans again."

"You know, you really work too hard, Belle. You teach three classes, tutor Neville, you're always at the beck and call of the children, and you micro manage the running of this household. Isn't that a bit much?"

"I like to be busy, you know that. The classes are a piece of cake, Neville's really progressing, and nothing's more important to me than Harry and Hermione. As for the house," she smiled wryly, "I'm a neat freak and I live with two men and two teenagers. Either I clean or I go nuts."

That was exactly the opening Sirius wanted. "Actually, I've been thinking, and it's not fair to dump most of the household chores on you. So, I've found some help."

"Help? As in a house-elf?" she said sharply. "I don't need slave labor, thank you."

"Actually, I happen to have found a house-elf who's been freed of his former master, and works for wages at Hogwarts. He's willing to come and work for us," he said carefully.

"Really? That could work," she mused.

"Good. His name is Dobby, and he'll be coming over to the house tomorrow to begin work." Sirius watched her expression carefully. It did not change, but her hands trembled slightly.

"Dobby? The Malfoys' house-elf?"

"Yes. Funny, he seemed to remember you for some reason. He was very excited that you were here, and wanted me to tell you that he still knows the recipe for iced tea. Nasty beverage that it is." He made a face.

Isabelle swallowed hard, and looked in Sirius' eyes. She realized that he had found out, somehow, about Lucius. The room began to spin, and she clutched the countertop for support. Her mind whirled as she tried to gather her wits about her.

Use your brain, she told herself. There's no way that Sirius could know about him. Only three people know about Lucius and I, and the two of us are the very definition of discretion. And Severus would never talk to Sirius, let alone about something like this. It's merely a giant coincidence, Isabelle. Just act like everything's fine, and he won't suspect a thing.

"You would change your mind about iced tea if you ever spent a summer in the South," she replied calmly.

"Perhaps." Sirius studied her face, wondering if he should just bring up the subject of Malfoy. "Isabelle--"

"What?" she said, with a slight smirk on her face. "Does this have something to do with this Sara you had over the house yesterday? How did you meet her, anyway?"

"I fell for her, literally." He explained the story, and they were both laughing when he finished. He looked at the happy look on her face, and hated to confront her. But, he couldn't pretend that everything was fine, when it wasn't. But how to do it? Well, he decided, in Gaelic for starters. That would not only be less adversarial, but if anyone happened to walk in the room, the conversation wouldn't be overheard. "Speaking of running into people, I heard that you ran into someone yourself."

She looked up, panic showing in her eyes. He hasn't started a conversation in the old language with me since I was eleven years old, she thought. There was no use pretending anymore. "How did you find out?" she asked in an empty voice.

"It's true then? About Malfoy?"

She simply nodded. Her eyes filled with tears, but she refused to cry. Let him rant and rave, disown her, do whatever he wanted to do. She would not let him see how much his disappointment in her mattered. A single tear escaped from her eye, and she quickly wiped it away.

"Why did you do it, Belle?"

"None of your business," she snapped. "Who told you? Dobby?"

"No. Snape."

"You lie. He's never done anything to hurt me. He wouldn't betray me like that." Her chin quivered.

"I'm not lying," Sirius said as gently as possible. "You had a nightmare that woke me up, and you were talking in your sleep about when your daughter was born. So, I went to talk to Snape, and he told me everything. I just want to know why, that's all."

Her face contorted as she turned on him like a wounded tiger. "Why, Sirius? Because for the first time in my life, I could do something to help someone I loved. When Mum got sick and died, I could do nothing. My father went off and killed himself, leaving me with Petunia, and I could do nothing. I watched Regina die, taking part of you with her, and I could do nothing. In one night, I lost everyone else I loved. I watched the cemetery staff lower my sister and James into the ground, and saw and heard everyone condemn you to Azkaban. And there was nothing I could do. Are you sensing a theme here? Do you think I just let Severus take Gracie away from me? No. It was all Dumbledore could do to hold me back from chasing after her. And Harry. Why do you think they sent me to another continent? Because America's a fun place to be? No. Because they knew that I would try to take the children the first chance that I got. Sev promised that I could have them when they went to Hogwarts and became acclimated to the wizarding world."

"That's why you married Remizov. To give them a family." The puzzle was starting to make some sense to Sirius.

"Some family," she snorted. "I ruined any chance I had of raising those children when I married him. Did Severus tell you everything? Did he mention that my husband turned me into a human pinata? How about that Sergei sent me to Azkaban because I wouldn't make illegal drugs? Yes, let's talk about Azkaban, shall we?" Her eyes blazed. "For two long months, he stuck me in that place. Do you know what I did? I watched the inmate across the hallway from me. Quite fascinating person, really. Spent most of his time as a large black dog in order to avoid the Dementors. Prison's much nicer as an Animagus, I'm sure."

She waived her hand dismissively. "But, no matter. My husband needed me to make money for him, so I was freed. You know what I am, Sirius? I am a pawn on someone else's chessboard to be moved and discarded at will. This little pawn was sick and tired of watching everyone she loved suffer, so when I had the opportunity to help Harry, I took it. I'm not proud of myself. But, oh, have I been punished for my actions, far beyond what you could ever imagine. Trust me, there's nothing you could do to hurt me any more that what's already been done."

Sirius stood up, and walked around the bar, standing directly in front of her. Her face remained impassive, but he saw fear in her eyes. Fear of what? he wondered, lifting his hand to remove an eyelash from his eye. She flinched. He realized that she thought that he was going to hit her just then.

"Oh, Isabelle," he said helplessly.

"Sorry. Pavlovian response. So, that's why you hired Dobby, then? To cover up my dirty little secret? To make sure I don't shame the family? You're good at making people's dirty laundry disappear, aren't you Sirius?"

He looked at her, shocked. Tit for tat, huh, Belle? he mused. He thought that he had made sure that no one would find out about what he had done for Regina all those years ago. Of course, he didn't count on Snape raising Isabelle. He must've told her, the useless piece of trash. But, this wasn't about his wife, this was about the woman standing in front of him. "I didn't do it because I'm ashamed of you. I did it because I don't anyone to be able to hurt you again."

Isabelle looked in his forgiving, trusting eyes, and completely broke down. She hadn't cried like this since she was sixteen years old, before she went to America for the first time. Sirius reached for her, and they clung to each other like the other person was a lifeline, a hope for an absolution of a life filled with mistakes and regret. They both knew that their relationship was forever changed. It had passed beyond the realm of mere friendship into a permanent bond. They knew everything about each other, even what hid in the darkest, most remote corners of each other's pasts. Things they would tell no one else, ever.

They eyed each other wearily, not knowing what to say. After a few minutes, they simply picked up their lives as if the conversation never happened. They walked upstairs, Isabelle to get dressed to go to the castle, and Sirius went to bed. It was the only way either of them could deal with the events of their lives, to just move on and not dwell on the past.


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

"So, then we went for a three hour walk in the moonlight," Fleur gushed. She was sprawled on Isabelle's four-post bed, leafing through a magazine. "Ew. These robes are positively revolting."

"The brown ones?" Isabelle asked, trying to paint her toenails without spilling polish on the floor.

"Yes. They look like burlap sacks. I have to find something new for the holidays," she said, frustrated. "I saw that."

"What?"

"You rolling your eyes. I can't help it. Charlie's just the first guy I've ever met who actually talks to me. Not just at me, but to me. He treats me like I'm a real person, a smart person with ideas and opinions." Fleur buried her head in her hands. "Listen to me. I sound like a lovesick idiot."

"I think someone put a love potion in the water. Everyone I know is in the middle of a steamy love affair."

"Including you?"

"Absolutely not. Among other reasons, there is a definite lack of options around this place." Isabelle heard a knock at her bedroom door. "Come in," she called. Sirius poked his head in the room.

"Oh, hi Fleur. I didn't know you were here. How are you?" he asked.

"Fine, thank you. I didn't know you speak French," she responded, surprised.

"Hidden talent," he said sheepishly. "What time is the Halloween banquet?"

Isabelle looked at her watch. "In about fifteen minutes."

"Thanks." He disappeared back into the hallway.

"Ugh. It's been a rough day, so I think I'm skipping this one. Are you going?"

"I'm supposed to meet Charlie there. Stop that!" she said, throwing a pillow at Isabelle, who was making faces at her.

"You'd better go, then. Wouldn't want to keep him waiting," she teased. Fleur blushed, but did hurry out of the house to arrive at the banquet on time.

Isabelle rummaged around in her wardrobe for her heaviest coat, and headed for the main castle. She snuck in using a back entrance she knew about courtesy of the Marauder's Map, and went to the Astronomy tower to think. Severus had only left two days ago, but she was already crazy with worry over him. She knew that the only reason he told Sirius anything about her marriage was because there was a very good chance that he would never come back.

He has to come back, she told herself firmly over and over. He's the only person in your life who's never deserted you, and never will. You can count on him. She jumped, as a hand touched her elbow.

"Sorry, didn't mean to scare you," said a deep voice. Andrew Patil studied her carefully. "Is something bothering you?"

"Oh, just worried about a friend, that's all."

"So, you're seeking answers in the stars?" he joked.

"No, not exactly."

"What do you mean, not exactly?"

"Exactly that. I can't tell you. You'd make fun of me."

"No, I wouldn't. Try me."

"Ok, fine," she gave in, laughing. "When I first came to Hogwarts, I missed my family terribly. So, I would sneak out of my dorm room at night and come up here and look at the stars. You see, I assigned a star to each member of my family. When I would get lonely, I would pick a person's star, and pretend that they were there, smiling down at me. That way, they were always with me. Sounds ridiculous, huh?"

"No, it doesn't. So, which star belongs to what person?"

Isabelle pointed out the stars for her parents, Lily, James, Regina, Remus, Harry and Hermione. Thankfully, she remembered not to mention Severus' star. That would be a bit tricky to try to explain. Andrew watched her animated expression. Ever since they were at Hogwarts together, he had fancied her, and jumped at the chance of becoming her confidant now. Suddenly, he frowned. She had forgotten someone.

"Does Sirius Black have a star? Wasn't he your guardian?" he asked her, puzzled.

She smacked her hand on her forehead. "Sorry. Yes, he was my guardian, and that's his star. It's the closest star to earth, the brightest star in my sky."

The brightest star in her sky. What did that mean? It could mean that he's the most important person to her out of everyone she loves. He found himself becoming incredibly jealous of Black. Or, he told himself, he could be reading far too much into her statement. After all, she didn't even mention him at first.

"Thanks for not making me feel like I'm nuts," Isabelle said. "What are you doing up here, anyway?"

He held up a pair of sunglasses. "I accidentally left them here Saturday when I was babysitting the first and second years. Thought I'd come pick them up while I was thinking about them."

"Well, I'm glad you did." She smiled at him.

"Me, too. Do you think we could do this again sometime?" he asked hopefully.

"Sure," she replied. Maybe I was hasty in saying I had a lack of options, she thought, as she walked out of the tower with him, chatting.

-----

"Come ye thankful people come, raise the song of harvest home; all is safely gathered in, ere the winter storms begin. God our--" 

"What are you singing?" Remus yawned, sitting on a bar stool in the kitchen.

"It's a Thanksgiving hymn," Isabelle replied, spreading strawberry jam on her toast.

"What's Thanksgiving?"

"It's an American holiday that comes on the fourth Thursday in November, which just so happens to be today."

"What do you do on this Thanksgiving?"

"Eat," she laughed. "It celebrates the harvest, so you cook a ton of food and gorge yourself silly. Then, you waddle to the sofa, where you watch football all afternoon and evening. The Dallas Cowboys always play, and today they're playing the Washington Redskins. Big rivalry. I'm probably going to go over to the lab later and check out the game. It doesn't start until the evening because of the time change. I hope we kick some Texan tail. After all, God's a Redskins fan."

"I'll take your word on that one." Remus looked at her as if she had completely lost her mind.

"Want to watch with me?"

"I'll pass."

"There's going to be cheerleaders."

"Really?" Now he was interested.

"Yes. The Cowgirls are legendary." She gave him a playful punch on the arm. "Besides, how can I watch TV without my buddy?"

"What about Patil?"

She made a face. "I can't watch with him. I have a huge crush on the Redskins quarterback. I need to watch with someone who doesn't mind me drooling all over myself."

He rolled his eyes. "Fine. What time?"

"Nine o'clock sharp."

"I'll be there. Now, if only I can wake up enough to teach class."

"I hear you. I actually fell asleep in Muggle Studies yesterday when we were watching a movie in the lab."

He stood up, took a huge swig of tea, and picked up his notes. "Well, I'm off."

"See ya tonight," she reminded him.

She crept to the refrigerator, opened the door, and shuffled around the contents of the bottom shelf until she found a secret compartment. "Alohomora," she whispered, carefully removing a decadent chocolate cake and placing it on the counter. Thinking carefully, she removed a piece of paper and a ballpoint pen, and began to write.

_Dear Sev,  
Happy anniversary of our dinner! Did you think I would forget? Everything is fine here; a little lonely without you, but I'll manage. I can't wait until you return. Until then, all my love, your thornbird._

Satisfied that the letter was anonymous enough to escape identification by either Sergei or Lucius, she stuffed it in an envelope, and tossed it on the counter. Humming, she took out a knife and swiftly cut the cake along pre-made lines.

"What's that, Belle? Chocolate cake?"

Busted. Darn it, she thought, putting down the knife and looking at Sirius. She had so hoped that no one would discover her favorite treat.

"Not just any chocolate cake," she huffed. "It's Death by Chocolate."

"Death by Chocolate? Sounds morbid. Where did you get it from, a Death Eater bakery?"

"Witty, as usual," she said snidely. "No, from the Trellis, in Williamsburg. I had it overnighted to Hogsmeade. It's a Thanksgiving tradition between Severus and I."

"Oh?" Ever since Halloween, he was trying to keep his sarcastic comments about Snape to a minimum.

"Yes. We've had this cake for dessert every year since our first Thanksgiving dinner. When he moved back here, I would overnight him a piece every year, except when I was married. With him gone, I just wanted something, well, comforting." Her delicate face fell. "Anyway, would you like a piece? This cake's too good to eat alone."

She laughed at the look on his face. He was a notorious chocoholic, and practically dived into a piece. "Whoa! Now the name makes sense. What's in this thing – I've died and gone to heaven."

"There's a pound of chocolate in every slice, between the cake itself, the fillings, and the icing."

The cake disappeared in less than three minutes. Sirius looked at his watch. "Crap. I'm late to class."

"Are you going to give yourself detention?" she teased, as he rushed out of the house. She carefully wrapped a piece of cake with her letter. She gathered her things together, hurried to the owlery, and sent the parcel away.

-----

Harry tossed and turned, lost somewhere in between a dream and reality. A room, lit only by about a dozen candles, came into view, illuminating several hooded figures. He was conscious enough to realize that this dream was perhaps a vision, and tried to focus his eyes on what was before him. 

A tall, hooded figure rushed into the room, causing everyone else to murmur quietly. He pushed down the hood of his robe, and approached what appeared to be a man sitting in an armchair. Harry stared, baffled. The man looked exactly like Sirius. Maybe this was just a nightmare, after all.

"Ahh, Sergei," the voice hissed quietly. "How nice of you to join us."

The man kneeled. "Forgive me, my Lord. I had to finish some business that took longer than expected."

Harry's scar exploded with pain. He tried to think past the pain, and concentrate.

"I see. I have been waiting to discuss some business with you myself. Do not keep Lord Voldemort waiting again."

"Yes, my Lord."

He stood up, and bowed. Although Harry could see that this man had black eyes, not grey, and was slightly shorter than Sirius, the resemblance between the two men was unmistakable.

A large owl swooped into the room, dropping a parcel into the lap of a figure seated in a corner, feet propped up on a desk.

"What is that, Severus?"

"Give me a minute, my Lord, and we shall see." Professor Snape untied the bundle, and smiled wryly.

"Bring it to me." Voldemort wrapped his fingers around the box, pulling out the short note, reading it through his red, snake-like eyes. "Interesting. And who is this thornbird that holds you in such high regard?"

Harry could see Snape's slight hesitation. "Stacey Ferguson, an old friend from America that I met while searching for your followers after your demise."

Sergei narrowed his dark, cruel eyes. "Wasn't she a graduate student at New York University at the same time as my wife?"

"I do not know your ex-wife," he replied, emphasizing the ex, "other than socially, so I cannot answer the question."

"Speaking of the Evans woman," the Dark Lord cackled, "I wish to speak with you about her loyalties."

"Her loyalties are obviously with the Potter boy," Sergei spat. "Along with the Black child, and her father. Especially the father."

"Just because her loyalties are not with you does not mean that she has turned her back on our cause completely," came another voice.

"Wise, Lucius. I wish for you to go to Hogwarts immediately to find her. Try to find out if she is devoted to our cause."

"With all due respect, my Lord, I feel that I would be the best choice to talk to her. She is my colleague," Snape interjected.

"No, Severus," Voldemort hissed softly. "I will send someone I trust, whose loyalties have never been in question. And, someone who has limited contact with her and her family, so emotions will not get in the way of finding the truth. Lucius is the best choice. Then, we will plan the best way to kill the Potter boy. And his cousin."

"As you wish."

Harry woke up with a start, drenched in sweat. He reached up to touch his scar. It was blisteringly hot. His mind reeled. What was he supposed to do? He grabbed his invisibility cloak, and tossed it on absentmindedly. He snuck out of the main castle, and headed towards the faculty grounds.

He quietly let himself into the house, walked up the stairs, and knocked on Isabelle's door. A minute later, she appeared in a pale blue tank top and shorts, hair pulled up in a messy bun.

"Harry," she yawned. "Why are you here? Is something wrong?"

"Yes. I need to talk to you," he said urgently.

"What's going on?" Sirius asked, leaning against his doorframe.

"I'm not sure. I had this dream, and I'm not sure what it means."

Sirius and Isabelle looked at each other. Even if this was a simple nightmare, it obviously bothered Harry.

"Alright, why don't we go downstairs and talk about it," Isabelle said reassuringly.

They tiptoed downstairs and sat in the living room. Dobby appeared and brought them drinks, and asked them if they needed anything else twice before Sirius convinced him that they were fine for the night.

"Ok, start at the beginning," Sirius said.

Harry launched into the dream, describing the room, and the people in it. When he said that a woman named Stacey sent Professor Snape a package, Isabelle let out an indignant huff.

"Stacey, indeed! Of all the people to...ooh...I knew he still has a thing for her," she muttered under her breath.

"Wait a minute here. Did you send a piece of that cake to Snape?" Isabelle looked down guiltily. "Are you insane? You could've blown his cover. Of all the stupid, thoughtless things to do, you decide to send a package to a man who happens to be in the same room with your ex-husband and--"

"So what! You heard that Sev covered for me. Although why he picked Stacey...have to ask him about that later."

"We have bigger problems than Snape's love life! The way you're going, you're going to get us all killed."

"Shut up, both of you!" They looked at Harry, shocked. "I swear, you fight more than Ron and Hermione, and twice as loud. At least they argue in English. Now, as I was saying," he continued, describing the rest of the dream. When he was finished, Sirius gave Isabelle a look.

"So, Lucius is coming here. To Hogwarts. For me." Her face was pale.

"So, this dream was really a vision?"

"I'm afraid so. Well, Harry, you're welcome to sleep here if you want to."

"No, Aunt Isabelle. I'm not leaving until I get some answers. All my life, people have kept things from me. I'm sick of it." He crossed his arms.

"It's to protect you, Harry. You have to understand."

"I don't understand, Sirius. Protect me from what, Voldemort?" he snorted. "How am I supposed to stay out of danger, when I don't know what in danger from?"

Isabelle closed her eyes, and exhaled softly. He was right, of course. "Fine, Harry. I'll tell you what you want to know, as long as you tell no one."

"I don't think this is a wise idea."

"It's my story to tell, Sirius."

"It's our story, Belle. It starts with me foolishly running off after Peter Pettigrew shortly before James and Lily died. If I hadn't done that, none of the rest would've happened."

Harry was amazed. This was a side of his aunt and uncle that he had never seen before – vulnerability. Never, until now, had either of them showed any of their private pain to the children. It was difficult to watch, yet he was hanging on their every word.

"You don't know that. When Voldemort went to your parents' house, he sent a band of Death Eaters to our home. All of them ran away, except for one. You know this already. What you don't know is that the Death Eater was Professor Snape."

"What?" Harry gasped.

"Yes, he took Hermione to the Grangers, and me to America, where he and I lived until I became a fully qualified witch. He was our secret keeper."

Of course, Harry thought. It all makes perfect sense. Why hadn't he thought of it before? "And who is this Stacey?"

She laughed. "Very long story. The short version is that Sev and I took a road trip across America once. Well, we weren't very familiar with Muggle cars, and we got a flat tire in Abilene, Texas. So, we're trying to figure out what to do when Stacey walks up and offers to help us. We got to talking, and found out that she was beginning her doctoral work in chemistry at New York University the next fall. She and Sev hit it off immediately, the nerds. So, she ended up coming along on our trip, and we dropped her off in New York."

"Did they, um,"

"Have a love affair?" Isabelle rolled her eyes. "They are so on again, off again. It drives me nuts."

Harry couldn't process the idea of Snape having a girlfriend. He looked at Sirius, and could tell that he was thinking the exact same thing.

"Hey, get that look off your face, Potter. You wanted to know," she teased, ruffling his hair. "Anything else running through that brain of yours?"

"Yeah. What's a thornbird?"

"It's an ancient legend. The thornbird searches its entire life for a thorn tree, and when it finds it, it impales itself on it. As it's dying, it sings through its pain. The legend says that all creation stops to listen to the song, even heaven, because it is the sweetest song ever heard. The lesson is that for the thornbird, being the best is bought at the price of great pain. I suppose the person who wrote that note feels that any pleasure in her life comes with great pain and sacrifice. Nothing is without a cost. Anyway, off to bed with you," she said, shooing Harry upstairs. She stood to go back to bed, when Sirius grabbed her arm.

"Is that how you really feel about your life?" he asked her.

"Yes," she said simply, and walked up the stairs.

-----

"Excuse me? Excuse me, everyone," Professor Dumbledore held up his hands for silence. The entire Great Hall quieted, which was quite a feat, considering that the holiday season was just a few short weeks away. "Thank you. Professor Evans wants to make an announcement, which all of you should find very interesting." His eyes twinkled, as Isabelle stood up to speak. 

"As you know, Christmas holiday is coming up soon." The Great Hall erupted in cheers, causing Isabelle to shake her head, smiling. "Well, my Muggle Studies classes have just completed our unit on clothing, and are about to begin studying social gatherings. Muggle children, like yourselves, have dances. So, we're going to have a Muggle-style dance here at Hogwarts, on Christmas Eve night. All Muggle Studies students are required to attend, as well as dress like Muggle teenagers would at a formal dance."

"Can other students come?"

"Yes, Lee, they can. Any Hogwarts student third-year and above may come. Students attending the dance that wish to go home for the holidays will leave December 26th on the Hogwarts Express."

The halls buzzed as students left to go to their afternoon classes.

"I wonder why we're having another Christmas ball," Hermione mused.

"Because someone made such a fuss about the O.W.L. tests and needing time to study in the spring," Harry replied.

"Well, they are only six months away."

"Barely any time to prepare," Ron said sarcastically, narrowly avoiding running straight into Draco.

"Well, I'm certainly not going to go to that bitch's stupid Muggle dance," they heard him say.

"Excuse me? What did you say?"

"Hello, Father," Draco said smoothly, repeating his words. When he finished, his father looked at him through extremely angry eyes and crossed arms.

"Never, and I mean never, call Professor Evans 'that bitch' again. She is your professor, and deserves respect. Do you understand me?"

"Y-yes sir," Draco said quietly.

"And another thing. It would do you well to learn how Muggles function, at least on a social level. I fully expect you to attend that dance, and if I hear that you caused any trouble for Professor Evans, you will be punished severely. Now, hurry to class." Draco stared in disbelief as his father stormed down the hallway.

Harry, Ron and Hermione stared at each other, shocked. That was the last thing any of them expected Lucius Malfoy to say.

"Um, did I just hear what I thought I heard?" Ron asked.

"Yeah. Why is Draco's father here?" Hermione wondered.

"And why would he defend Aunt Isabelle like that?" Harry added.

Didn't Voldemort say that Malfoy had limited contact with her? If that was true, what would possess him to stick up for her?

"Who knows." Ron shook his head, as they hurried to Care of Magical Creatures class.

-----

Lucius Malfoy placed his hand on Isabelle's office door, and paused. All the way to Hogwarts, he convinced himself that this visit was just to placate Lord Voldemort, and nothing more. But, when he heard his own son degrade her, he realized just how deep his feelings for her ran. She was like a poison that overran his system, that had no cure. Deciding to get this over with, he knocked on the door. 

"Come in," came the reply. She looked up, and didn't seem a bit surprised to see him.

"Good afternoon, Isabelle," he said tiredly, shutting the door behind him.

"What's wrong?"

He waved his hand dismissively. "Nothing out of the ordinary. Just here on business."

"Which is?"

"You. Voldemort wishes to know where your loyalties lie."

She snorted. "What a wasted trip this is. As if I could turn against my own flesh and blood."

"Seeing you is never a wasted trip." He gazed at her intently. "So, I hear that you are seeing a professor here?"

"Yes. I'm just trying to move on, Lucius. I'm trying to create some semblance of normalcy out of the mess that is my life."

"And this Patil is the key to the normal life you seek?"

Another knock sounded at the door, and Sirius let himself in without being asked. Harry told him that Malfoy was at Hogwarts already. Although he had tried to prepare himself for this moment, he had to use every bit of discipline he possessed not to pound him into the ground.

"Yes, Sirius?" Isabelle raised an eyebrow. Since when was she a damsel in distress who needed to be rescued?

"Sorry to interrupt you, but I have some urgent business to discuss with you." His voice was as cold as ice. As were his eyes, which focused on Lucius. "Surely you don't mind."

"Not at all. I've gotten what I came here for. Happy holidays, Isabelle." He stood up, and left the room. Her eyes followed his every move.

"And what did he come here for?" Sirius asked.

"Exactly what was in Harry's dream," she said with no feeling.

"Did you love him, Belle?"

"I have only truly loved one man in my life."

"That was not an answer."

"I know."

They smiled at each other, both realizing that neither one of them wanted to know the answer to that question. Sirius didn't want to face the idea that she could love someone like Malfoy, and Isabelle simply refused to dwell on a relationship that could never be.


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

"So, those are the main characteristics of unregistered Animagi. Any questions?" Sirius crossed his arms, and leaned against the desk, looking at the sea of raised hands. He purposely picked an easy lesson for the last seminar class before the holidays, hoping that the students processed at least some of the information.

"How is it possible for anyone to become an animagus without the Ministry finding out about it?" Parvati asked.

"You just look up how to do it in the books, become one, and don't tell anyone," Hermione snapped, rolling her eyes as if this was the most obvious thing in the world.

"Thank you, Professor Black," Parvati said snidely to Hermione.

"Anytime," came the reply through clenched teeth.

"Ooh, catfight," George whispered to Harry, who tried to hide a smile.

"And over our brother, too," Fred said. "Why can't we get girls to fight over us like that?" Angelina gave him a dirty look.

"Alright, break time," Sirius said, diffusing the growing tension between the girls. Much as he wished that Hermione would control her temper better, she was right. And he did feel a sort of paternalistic pride watching her put Parvati in her place, although he would never tell her that.

"So, Harry, I hear you're taking Cho to the dance," Lee said, nodding his head to the corner of the room, where Cho, Parvati and Padma were talking.

"Yeah," he replied, blushing. "Asked her yesterday after Charms class."

"Ah, young love," Fred pronounced, clapping Harry on the back. "Who are you taking, George?"

"A sixth-year named Star West."

"Nice pick," Lee said approvingly.

"I'm guessing you're going with Parvati, Ron?" Harry asked, with a wicked gleam in his eye.

"Don't even, Potter."

"Don't what? Just wondering. Thought for sure you wouldn't make the same mistake as last year," Harry taunted him.

"As a matter of fact, I haven't asked anyone."

"No time like the present."

Ron looked like he was going to murder Harry for putting him in this awkward position. If he asked Parvati, Harry was right. But, the alternative was to ask Hermione to the dance in front of her entire family. She was probably going with Viktor, anyway. His brothers stared at him like sharks circling a victim, waiting for the opportunity to strike. What to do? Parvati was talking in the corner. It would be so easy to walk over there and just ask her. But where was Hermione? He searched the room, and his heart sank to the floor. She was talking to her father and Isabelle.

"Go on. Break's almost over," Harry reminded him.

Ron stood up, still not knowing what to do. He walked over to Hermione, knowing that at least five pairs of eyes followed his every move.

"What's going on?" Isabelle asked him. She looked over at Harry, and they shared a knowing smile.

"Oh, not much," he said, more nervously than he intended to. "Just wanted to let you know that I'm going home for the holidays this year, so I won't be able to work in the lab."

"That's ok. I'm going to close it, anyway. Are you planning on going home before, or after the dance?"

"After. When are you going to the Grangers', Hermione?"

"Probably before the dance, since Viktor's going to Bulgaria for Christmas, and I don't have a date. Like anyone else would ask me, anyway," she lamented, tears filling her grey eyes.

"I would." Ron couldn't believe what he just said.

"Aren't you going with Parvati?" Hermione said through narrowed eyes.

"Nah. That's just what she's telling everyone. What do you say?"

She gave him a crooked, happy smile. "Sure. I guess that means I need a dress after all, Isabelle. I'm sorry."

"No problem. Just come by the house after class, and we'll figure something out."

Across the room, Parvati stomped over to Harry. "What's going on over there?" she demanded.

"Ron just asked Hermione to the dance," he replied. He couldn't help laughing at the astonished look on Parvati's face. She turned bright red, and stomped back off to the corner.

Now that he had asked her, Ron had no idea what to do next. He was absolutely trapped between his friends, who were eagerly waiting for him to sit back down, and Sirius, who was looking at him with a raised eyebrow. He gulped.

"Ok, break's over folks. Don't worry, I have a short lecture planned," Isabelle said loudly. Relieved, Ron quickly took his seat. As his back was turned, Isabelle flashed a thumbs-up sign to Harry, who grinned.

"Wait a minute here. You set them up, did you?" Sirius turned to her with an astonished look on his face.

"Hmmm?"

"You and Harry tag-teamed them. How long have you had this planned?"

"Weeks," she replied. "Never underestimate the scheming power of an Evans."

"I'll keep that in mind." He shook his head. "Ron's brave, I'll give him that. I think Parvati's about three seconds away from clawing out my daughter's eyes, though. Since they're the only thing she inherited from me, please start lecturing before they get ripped out."

"Only thing? Sirius, sometimes I wonder if Gina had anything, other than looks, to do with the making of that child. Alright," she said to the class, "as you know, Christmas holiday begins next week. So, no new material tonight. Y'all have learned a lot so far this year, but you have quite a ways to go before any of you can hold your own against a fully trained Death Eater. For your own safety, please don't try wandless magic at home over the holidays, or let anyone know that you are learning that skill."

"Why not?" Ginny asked.

"Because, if you are ever in a duel with a Death Eater, the last thing that you want your opponent to know is that you have a secondary line of defense. Never, ever use wandless magic unless it is your last resort. It is better to let someone knock you senseless than give away that secret." She looked at Sirius and gave him a wry smile. "Only use wandless magic if you are absolutely certain that your opponent will not live long enough to tell anyone else that you killed him or her without a wand."

The students looked at each other, suddenly realizing the seriousness of this seminar class. Unlike anything else they would ever learn, these skills could mean the difference between life and death. And that no matter how skilled they would become, some of them would die, just like their parents' generation. Isabelle sensed the class' mood plummet.

"I'm not going to tell you that you'll never be in a life or death situation, or that you'll survive that encounter. Life's not fair. The sooner you learn it, the better off you'll be. But, there's no use worrying about the future. It will take care of itself, trust me. Just live your life so that you have no regrets. Now, off with all of you. Have a great holiday," she said, dismissing the class.

Harry walked up to his aunt, smirking. "I can't believe they fell for that so easily."

"No kidding. Told you it would work."

"Remind me never to doubt you again, auntie. Now, about my Potions homework," he began.

"Try page 467. Not that it matters, because I've decided not to collect it. Early Christmas present."

"Don't tell Hermione that. She did it two weeks ago."

"Yeah, well, she needs to loosen up a little. Speaking of, where is she?"

"Over there, talking to Ron."

"We are geniuses, Harry."

"Was that ever in question?"

"How true." They smiled at each other. "Incredibly modest, too. Can you tell Hermione to meet me at the house? I need to run to the Dungeons first and set up the classroom for tomorrow's lesson."

"No problem," he said, walking over to his two best friends. It was nice to see them have an actual conversation, he thought.

-----

Isabelle plopped a stack of books on elementary potions making on the floor, kicked off her shoes, and padded to her wardrobe. She opened the doors, and reached for a tiny, jeweled case on the top shelf. Sighing, she sat on the floor, leaned her head against the bed, and waited for Hermione to arrive. Although picking an outfit for a dance was incredibly girly, she hoped that she could use the opportunity to bond with Hermione. For the first time, she needed help that only Isabelle could give. She desperately wanted to be close with Hermione, but she kept highly guarded boundaries that no one could cross, except Harry. She absolutely adored her cousin, from what Isabelle could see, and confided in him about everything. 

Why can't she be more like Harry? Isabelle thought crossly. Harry was so easy to get to know, so much fun to be around. He was always haunting Isabelle's office about something or the other, whether it was Potions or girl problems. Ron, too. Their latest crisis was learning to dance. She spent countless hours in the past two weeks teaching the two boys the finer points of dancing, and was confident that they would definitely impress their dates, to say the least. She heard a faint knock on the door.

"Come in," she called. Hermione let herself in the door, and shut it behind her. As usual, her face had the look of indifference that she reserved for Isabelle.

"So, you said that you had a dress that I might be able to wear?" she asked in a bored tone.

"Yes, it's right here," Isabelle replied, placing the jeweled box on the floor, where it grew into a full-sized wardrobe.

"Wow," Hermione breathed, shocked out of her disinterest.

"When I left my husband, I only took two things with me. One was my daughter. The other was this. My wardrobe. The morning I left, I packed up everything, and sent it overseas. All of these dresses were specially designed and made, and they have a lot of sentimental value for me. If my guesses are right, we're about the same size, so these should fit you."

She opened the wardrobe doors, revealing dozens of breathtaking gowns. Hermione's eyes were as large as saucers. She picked up one dress that was completely overlaid in jeweled flowers.

"Are these real sapphires?"

"All of the jewels are real. I was a trophy bride, so Sergei spared no expense when we attended a social function. This dress costed half a million pounds, if I remember correctly," she said, holding up a simple red sheath with diamond-studded spaghetti straps.

"Where would you wear something like this?"

"Oh, state dinners, holiday balls, that sort of thing."

Sirius walked into their shared bathroom to brush his teeth, and heard Isabelle's voice echo through her partially opened door. He knew that he should either close her door, or go back to his room, but he hesitated. How many conversations of his had Isabelle eavesdropped on over the years? Not once was he able to return the favor, until now. In spite of his good sense, he snuck over to the door, so that he could hear better.

"What's this?" Sirius peered through a crack in the door to see that Hermione was holding up a sash.

"Oh, that. It's the royal sash of a countess. For very formal occasions, I had to wear it."

"Do you ever miss any of it?"

"Sergei? Never. Sometimes I miss the parties, and the dancing. Honestly, I'm just a country girl from Dover who always wanted a simple life, at heart."

"Did you love your husband?"

"No. I thought that I did, but I was sadly mistaken."

"Why did you marry him, then?"

"He reminded me of someone. What about this one?" Isabelle held up a strapless light purple-grey dress with a fitted bodice and full-flowing skirt. Compared to the other gowns, it was incredibly plain and simple.

"I don't know."

"Just humor me and try it on. There's plenty of room in the wardrobe for you to change in."

A couple of minutes later, she stepped out of the wardrobe. The dress that looked so simple on the hanger looked dazzling on Hermione. The grey in the dress brought out her eyes, and the purple complimented her hair.

"What do you think?" Isabelle asked, smiling.

"I feel like Cinderella," came the reply. Their eyes met, and Isabelle knew that at long last, she had connected with Hermione.

"Let me see here," Isabelle said to herself, rummaging through her jewelry box. She pulled out a platinum and amethyst necklace and earrings set. "Try these on for size."

"Wow. Where did you get these from?"

"They were your mother's, and her mother's before that. I've been keeping them for you."

Sirius shook his head in amazement as Hermione put the jewelry on and turned around to see herself in the mirror from all angles.

"Boy, is Ron going to have a fit," he heard his daughter gush. He frowned. Ron was a much better option than Viktor, true, but still nowhere near good enough for her. Just like every other guy on planet earth.

"For sure," Isabelle agreed.

"How do you know if you're in love with someone?"

Oh, no. Please don't go there, Sirius thought desperately. Not only was she too young to be thinking of falling in love, this conversation was quickly going into the I-didn't-really-need-to-know-that direction. He thought of retreating into the safety of his bedroom, but decided to wait for Isabelle's response with the excuse of picking up parenting pointers, just in case he was ever asked that question.

"Well, it's beyond all the mushy lovey-dovey stuff. I think you really love someone when being without the other person is like a living death. I know that's morbid, but it's the best way I can explain it."

"Have you ever really loved someone?"

All thoughts of leaving quickly left Sirius' head. Perhaps she would tell his daughter something that she wouldn't even tell him.

"Once."

"Is he dead?"

"No."

"Then why can't you be together?"

"Because it's forbidden, you nosy thing," Isabelle said, playfully swatting at Hermione.

"Why?"

"It just is."

"Ok. What would happen if you did get together with this mystery man?"

"The world would fall off its axis, and life as we know it would cease to exist."

"Seriously, Isabelle."

"I'm serious." Hermione gave her an evil look. "Alright. It's forbidden because being with him would destroy both of our families. Sometimes, the heart doesn't always pick the best people to fall in love with. Star-crossed lovers sort of thing."

"Have I met him?"

"I'm certain that you have."

"So, he's a wizard?"

"Yes," Isabelle said, exasperated. The child wouldn't stop asking questions.

"Are you still in love with him?"

"Yes."

"Then, why are you dating this Patil guy when you're in love with someone else?"

"To try to move on with my life because I'll never have the man that I love." She sighed. "Just when I thought that I was completely over him, he drops back into my life. That was a day I'll never forget. I see him socially. I teach his child, who reminds me so much of him that it literally hurts sometimes. And although he's not with his wife anymore, I think that part of him still holds onto her. Even though he swears otherwise." She looked over at Hermione, whose eyes were brimming with unasked questions. "And, yes, you know the child I speak of."

"Do you think you'll ever get married again?"

"Probably not."

"Do you think Papa will marry that gold digger he's seeing?"

Isabelle doubled over with laughter. "Gold digger? What gives you that idea?"

Yes, Sirius seconded. Whatever could make Hermione think that Sara was a fortune-hunter? And what was it about Malfoy that captivated Isabelle's heart so completely?

"Oh, please. Why else would a perfectly sane woman choose to be with a man who has more issues than the Daily Prophet? Come on, here. He's got two teenage kids, one of whom is the continual target of the Dark Lord. Would you want to live somewhere where Voldemort could show up?"

"Good point."

"And," Hermione continued, "she doesn't even know my name, hardly. Not to be selfish, but the last thing that I need is another mother. I'm just barely coming to terms with who my real mother was. I don't need that gold digger telling me what to do. Besides, I have you. Why can't you and Papa get together?"

"Just because. Why do you ask so many questions?" Isabelle said, hitting Hermione over the head with a pillow. She quickly retaliated, and the conversation dissolved into an all-out pillow war. Having heard much more than he bargained for, Sirius crept back into his room and went to bed.

-----

A loud, piercing whistle shot through the Muggle Studies classroom. The entire classroom was filled with chattering, nervous students preparing to make their oral presentations on Muggle media. Everyone stopped, looking for the direction of the whistle. 

"Thank you. I know everyone's excited, but we need to get started, ok?" Isabelle said in an effort to calm the class down. She smiled at Remus, who snuck in the door and quietly settled in a corner. He was always so supportive of her unorthodox projects. "For the sake of simplicity, we're going to go in alphabetical order. And, please welcome Professor Lupin to our class." The class turned around and loudly applauded the popular professor.

The class presentations went flawlessly, until it was Lee Jordan's turn. Lee stood up, and shared a knowing look with Remus.

"What's going on, Remus?"

"Hmm?" he replied.

"Good morning, class. My project is on Muggle media interpretations of women."

"That's what I'm talking about, mate!" George shouted.

"Ah, but that's not the best part. Professor Lupin told me that seven years ago, an up and coming doctoral chemistry student had a brief modeling career. I would like to proudly present the Muggle media interpretation of our very own Professor Evans." He held up a dozen magazine covers, reading off some of the names. "Marie Claire, Cosmo, and my personal favorite, the Sports Illustrated Swimsuit Edition." Lee stepped to the side of the classroom, where he held up a life-size copy of Isabelle in a flesh-colored bikini. She turned crimson, as the males catcalled.

"Incendia," she said, burning the picture into a tiny pile of ashes. "Remus, you are toast," she said to him under her breath. He just grinned wickedly.

She tried to keep as low of a profile as possible throughout the rest of the presentations, and was relieved to come to the very last one. Well, relieved that they were almost over, but concerned that it was Fred and George Weasley's turn. If Lee found the Sports Illustrated Swimsuit Edition, who knew what the Weasley twins would find.

"Professor Evans gave us special permission to do our project together, so here's our take on the Muggle fascination with watching people's lives get destroyed on television. The lights suddenly dimmed, and a projection screen lowered from the ceiling. We present to the class our favorite excerpts from the Jerry Springer Show."

The projection screen filled with taped portions of the Springer show, which the class loved immediately. After watching the security guy Steve being hit with a chair for the third time, Katie fell out of her chair from laughter. By the end of the five minute clip, the class was joining in the audience's chanting.

"Thank you," the Weasley twins said, bowing.

"Well, class, thank you for your creative and um, enlightening projects," she said, glowering at Lee. "See all of you at the dance."

The class left, and Remus walked up to Isabelle, smirking.

"And you. You'll be lucky if I talk to you by the end of the year, mister," she said, stomping off to her office.

-----

Three hours later, Isabelle had calmed down enough to go home. She could've wrung Remus' neck in front of the entire class earlier for showing Lee those pictures. The only reason she got into modeling, anyway, was because Stacey dared her to. When she opened the front door, she heard voices coming from the living room. She poked her head in the room where Sirius, Sara, Remus and an extremely nervous-looking Charlie were sitting. 

"What's going on?" she said, flopping down on an armchair.

"Oh, just planning our next trip to the beach. Have any wardrobe advice?"

"Funny." She gave Sirius a murderous look. Obviously Remus had told him about today's class. "What's that, Charlie?"

"Well, uh, it's Fleur's Christmas present." He passed her the small box, and Isabelle smiled when she opened it.

"That serious, huh?"

"I hope so," Charlie said honestly. "It is for me, anyway."

She pulled out the gold and ruby eternity band. "Traditional guy, huh? It's kind of ironic, ruby as a family stone for a group of redheads."

"Mum would kill me if I didn't keep to tradition. Says it's a family honor thing."

"Well, when are you going to ask her?"

"Tomorrow night after the dance." He shook his head. "It's just a simple question. Why am I so nervous?"

"Because it's your brain telling you to run while you still can," Remus said with an evil glint in his eye.

"What do you know about proposing to a woman?" Isabelle shot back.

"Enough to have a healthy fear of the institution of marriage. Knowing what you know now, would you marry again?"

"Heck, no," she responded. "The engraving on my wedding band should've said 'abandon hope, all ye who wear this ring'."

"Belle, I think you're scaring Charlie," Sirius said, pointing to his white face.

"No, I'm ok. Thanks again, Sara, for bringing the ring by," he said, standing up to leave.

"No problem. Good luck tomorrow," she replied.

"Yeah, Charlie. Break a leg," Isabelle added, as the front door closed behind him. She looked at Remus, and they burst out laughing.

"I think Charlie picked the wrong jaded group of people to support him," Remus laughed.

"No kidding," she replied.

"Did you have a traditional wizarding wedding band, Isabelle?" Sara asked.

"Yes. It was yellow gold and black onyx," she answered. She smiled, thinking about Hermione's opinion of Sara.

"Oh. Then is your family's traditional gemstone blue lapis lazuli?" she questioned further, clearly inquiring about Isabelle's necklace.

"No. It's mine," Sirius responded. "Belle's Muggle born, so her family wouldn't keep that custom, anyway. I gave her that necklace for her sixteenth birthday."

"Forgive my nosiness, but the way I understand the tradition is that a man can only give jewelry with his family gemstone on it to either a blood family member or his wife. I thought you weren't blood related," Sara said, narrowing her eyes curiously.

"We're not. She is my goddaughter," Sirius said in a tone of voice that prohibited further questioning.

"Hey, she's my goddaughter, too. Share the love," Remus joked.

"You're just trying to make up for humiliating me earlier," Isabelle fumed.

"What is family for?" he answered. "Want to go have a drink at the Three Broomsticks?" Remus was obviously making a peace offering.

"Sure." Isabelle couldn't stay mad at him for too long, anyway. It was part of his charm. They headed to the pub, laughing and joking.

-----

Isabelle stood back from the mirror to look at her reflection, and smiled. She smoothed out imaginary folds in her dress, and hummed as she put up her hair in a practical, yet feminine bun. She couldn't believe how much her life had changed in the past six months, from a part-time pharmaceutical consultant at Whitehall-Robins and ballet instructor to a professor, at Hogwarts no less, and de facto parent of the two children she loved most in this world. It was as if she was finally vindicated for the past fourteen years of exile. Soon, Severus would be back with news of Death Eater plans, and life would become consumed with survival. But tonight was Christmas Eve, and time for celebration. 

Christmas had always been a special time for her, ever since she was a little girl and sang Christmas carols with her mother. No matter what went wrong in her life, for that one day, time seemed to stop and everything was right in the world. She looked outside and saw snowflakes gently falling on the grounds. It would be a white Christmas. Nothing could make this year more perfect, she decided. She heard a tap on her bathroom door, and a frustrated Sirius stomped in the room.

"Can you put this bloody thing on for me? I can't remember the tying spell."

"Oh, is the poor wizard lost if there's no spell to do something?"

"Cute. Is Remus already at the Great Hall?"

"Yes, since he still owes me for Lee's project, he's in charge of making sure everyone gets credit for being at the dance." She stood on tiptoe, and placed the bow tie around his neck.

"Credit?"

"Um, hum," she mumbled, tying a perfect knot. "There. No spells needed."

"Well, it's easier for you, anyway, because you're skinny," he replied, stretching out her long, thin fingers against his own hand. He laughed. "I find it hard to believe that any jeweler can make rings to fit your tiny hands."

"I wear the same size as Fleur, thank you very much. Four and three-quarters. I just choose not to wear rings. Well, to be honest, I'm clumsy and keep losing the stones," she said with a sheepish grin.

"Can you put these on for me, too?" He pulled two cufflinks out of his pocket.

"Men are so helpless."

"Before I forget, there's something I wanted to give to you." He took out a small velvet box from his pocket.

"Jeez, what else do you have in those pockets of yours?"

"Just open it."

She took the box from his outstretched hand, and opened it, looking at him curiously.

"Well, the other night when Sara was asking about your necklace, I remembered that I had these earrings made at the same time. They were supposed to be your Christmas present that year. I had them sent here from my vault in London, where they've been all these years. So, Merry Christmas fourteen years later."

"Merry Christmas," she said, through teary eyes. She tried to put the earrings on, but her hands were too shaky.

"Here, let me do it."

"You can put in earrings, but not cufflinks?"

He shrugged. "I can only use one hand when I put on cufflinks. Much harder to do. Anyway, are you ready to rescue Remus from a hall full of teenagers?"

"Ready as I'll ever be."

-----

Across the hallway, Harry knocked on Hermione's door. He hoped that she was still getting ready, and would charm his hair flat. Although his hair was just as unruly as hers, it didn't really bother him most days. But, he really wanted to make a good impression on Cho tonight. 

"What?" she mumbled through a mouthful of bobby pins, meticulously pinning her hair into thick curls.

"Wow, you actually look like a girl," he teased. "I'm not sure if Ron will recognize you. Maybe I should put a sign above your head so that he can find you."

"Witty." She narrowed her eyes at the reflection in the mirror, and rearranged several pins at the nape of her neck. "You don't look so bad yourself."

"Well, can you do something with my hair?"

"Hold on a sec," she said, curling her eyelashes with what looked like a medieval torture device to Harry. When she was satisfied that her makeup was perfect, she turned around and fixed Harry's hair.

"Thanks."

"No problem. Can you fasten this necklace for me?"

He whistled through his teeth. "Where did you get this?"

"Isabelle gave it to me. It was my mother's."

"Do you ever wonder what they were like?"

"Don't you? I would give anything just to have five minutes with my mother, to hear her voice. At least you've heard your parents' voices."

"When they were dying, Hermione. You still have your father."

"I would give anything to know what he was like before Azkaban."

"You and me both. Finished getting ready yet?" he said, exasperated.

She gave him a dirty look. "Yes," she responded tersely.

They walked out into the hallway, towards Isabelle's partially opened door, not believing what they saw. Sirius was carefully putting in a pair of earrings for her, and she was blotting tears out of the corner of her eyes. They had an ease around each other in private, a lack of reserve, that neither one of them showed anywhere else. Isabelle heard a noise in the hallway, and turned her head in the direction of the door, and gasped.

"Are you ready, Aunt Isabelle?"

Neither she nor Sirius could respond for a minute. He grasped her shoulders for support, turning an odd shade of white, and she couldn't stop blinking. It was like seeing and hearing ghosts of the past come back to life.

"Yes, I'm ready Harry," she finally answered, breaking Sirius' trance. "Well, let's go, then. Wouldn't want to keep Ron waiting," he said, winking at Harry. Hermione turned a violent shade of red, as they walked downstairs to get their coats and go to the ball. She grinned, forming her own plans for the night. Hopefully, if things worked out, she could be rid of Sara by the morning. And that would be the best Christmas present she could possibly receive.

-----

When they reached the main castle, Harry and Hermione went off to meet their dates, Isabelle to do crowd control in the Great Hall, and Sirius snuck off to the trophy room. He walked over to a plaque on the corner, and smiled. It had arrived in time. He then turned, and fought his way through giggling, nervous couples to the Great Hall. Isabelle and Hagrid had worked all day on the decorations, and the results were magnificent. 

The beautiful Christmas decorations were illuminated by hundreds of tiny candles floating above the crowd and in centerpieces on the tables. He laughed to himself, thinking of the fight that Isabelle had had with Professor Flitwick about the tables lining the sides of the room. Flitwick insisted that the dance include a full dinner, complete with seating for everyone. Isabelle countered that no one can dance properly after gorging on a feast, and if you're at a dance, why do you need tables to sit down? The conflict continued for two weeks, until Professor Dumbledore proposed a compromise: an ample spread of refreshments, and there would be enough seating for half of the student body.

Speaking of Isabelle, she was in the far right corner of the Great Hall, talking to Remus while supervising the students' portrait sessions. To ensure that the students received proper credit for attending the dance, she had enlisted a photographer to take pictures of couples, just like at American Muggle prom dances. The photo proof serves as a much more efficient way of taking class roll, she had decided.

There was a rustling around the table where a dj was set up, with thousands of cd's behind him. George Weasley whistled loudly, and the crowded hall looked at him.

"Excuse me, everyone," came his magically amplified voice. "On behalf of the student body, I would like to thank you, Professor Evans, for hosting this dance for us. And, I was wondering if I could have the honor of this dance."

All eyes riveted on Isabelle. Everyone knew that she was one of the best dancers in the world, but few people had actually seen her dance. She smiled.

"I'd be honored, George," she replied, to the cheers of the crowd, who parted to give them plenty of room in the middle of the dance floor. "By the way, what are we dancing to?"

"A little ditty that makes us think of you," he said cryptically. The opening notes of the song echoed through the hall, making Isabelle laugh hysterically.

_American woman, stay away from me  
American woman, mamma let me be  
Don't come hangin' round my door  
I don't wanna see your face no more _

"Oh, George, you didn't. How am I supposed to dance to this?"

As they danced, Sirius became transfixed on Isabelle. He had never seen someone radiate so much energy on a dance floor, as if she completely lost herself to the music. Every move she made was so free, uninhibited, full of life. His eyes followed her around the dance floor, slowly realizing what he had been blinded to before. Yes, he accepted that she was an adult, but somehow the fact that she is a woman escaped him until now. And a beautiful one at that.

He shook his head violently, trying to make his growing attraction to her disappear. But, it had been there all along, ever since he saw her on the Astronomy tower the night after his trial. The shock of who she was quickly pushed any romantic feelings away. If he had never seen her on the tower, never been even remotely attracted to her, he could fight these feelings, dismiss them as passing thoughts perpetuated by his surroundings.

Thunderous applause jolted Sirius out of his thoughts. George and Isabelle were taking dramatic, flamboyant bows.

"Beat that," George shot at Charlie.

"No problem," he replied. "Come on, Fleur. Let's show them how it's done."

With the entire Great Hall cheering them on, Fleur and Charlie tore up the dance floor. Isabelle made a mental note to tell her classes after the holidays that Muggle-style dances usually didn't begin with dance-offs. She looked over at Sirius, who had a really peculiar look on his face. Concerned, she left the onlookers and walked over to the doorway.

"Is anything wrong?" she asked him.

"No." After all, being attracted to her was just a feeling. Azkaban had taught him how to rid his mind of feelings, in order to keep his sanity against the Dementors. This is no different, he told himself. Remember, she's Lily's little sister, you raised her, she's ten years younger than you. And, she's in love with another man. Just let it go, and concentrate on a relationship that could actually work.

She smiled. "Good. Hey, can you fix the pin in my bun? I think it's slipping out."

"Sure."

He stepped closer to her, and suddenly found himself weak-kneed. Not a half hour ago, he was practically holding her in order to get the earrings in, and was fine. Now, he steeled himself, and leaned forward to adjust the pin back to its proper height. Just when he had finished and was congratulating himself on his mental control, a slight breeze wafted through the doorway, filling his nose with her perfume. He didn't realize that a woman could smell that good. Numerous swear words went through his mind. Get a hold of yourself, he thought. You're not a teenager, and she's no ordinary crush.

She turned her head around, face inches away from his. "Finished?"

"Yeah." Think of her as an eight-year old girl in pigtails, not desirable woman, he repeated to himself.

"Ok. 'Fess up. What's wrong with me?"

"Why would you think that?"

"Because you keep looking at me with that weird look on your face. Is it the hair?"

"No."

"My dress? Am I still too skinny?" she said, remembering his words from earlier that evening.

Against his better judgement, he studied her. In that dress, she looked anything but skinny. Slender, maybe, curvy, definitely, but she was not the knobby-kneed sixteen year old that he remembered. Time had done wonders for her figure, and he saw why men fell all over themselves for her.

"No."

"My perfume? Stacey sent it over from New York. Is it too much?"

"No, it's," his voice trailed. Breathtaking, intoxicating, he thought. "It's fine."

"Then, what is it?"

"Belle, there's nothing wrong with you," he snapped. "Can't someone just have a funny look on their face for the heck of it?"

"Sure." Her lower lip quivered, and Sirius felt terrible. He didn't mean to yell at her.

"I'm sorry. It's just that you look great. Better than great, even." He managed to stop talking before he began to make a fool out of himself.

"Really? Thank you." She flashed him a thousand-watt smile, and hurried off to prevent Lee from pouring a suspicious looking substance into the punch bowl.

He watched her lecture Lee, and send him away from the refreshment table. She turned, and gave him a little wave. Just think eight year old girl in pigtails, he reminded himself.


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13**

Across the Great Hall, Harry and Ron managed to find an open table, and sat down with glasses of punch. It was the first time that they had taken a break from dancing in an hour.

"Here's to Aunt Isabelle and her dancing lessons." Harry held up his punch glass in a toast.

"I'll drink to that," Ron replied. "Why is it that girls always go the bathroom in groups?"

"Beats me. Hey, I saw you getting pretty cozy with my cousin earlier. Are you sure that you have honorable intentions?"

"Harry, my friend, I have plenty of intentions, and I can assure you that not a one of them is honorable."

He laughed. "All I have to say is good luck, and dream on."

"No joke. Kind of hard to steal a girl away from her absentee boyfriend under the nose of her father."

"Hey, speaking of bad intentions, check out Neville over there," Harry nodded his head in the direction of the dance floor. Isabelle must've taught Neville to dance, too, because he was expertly leading Ginny around the dance floor.

"Excuse me. What is he doing with my baby sister?" Ron fumed.

"The same thing you want to do with Hermione. I feel sorry for the guy, having to deal with her four red-headed, overprotective brothers."

"Oh, sure. Just look at them. Charlie doesn't realize that anyone other than Fleur exists, Fred's slow dancing in a corner with Angelina, and George left a half hour ago to snog Star in the trophy room."

"What's going on?" Hermione asked.

"Just telling Harry about my lovesick brothers," he replied.

"I guess dancing does that to you. Oh, Cho told me to tell you that she's dancing with Draco for a little while."

"Do what?" Harry exploded.

"Don't get mad at me. I think she's a little, well, shallow for you anyway."

"Two words for you: Viktor Krum," he countered.

"What about him?"

"He's a boring prat. My History of Magic textbook is more interesting than being around him."

Her eyes shot fire. "Oh, yeah? Well, check out what your amazingly intellectual date is doing on the dance floor." She was draped around Draco. Hermione thought that she saw steam rise from Harry's ears, and couldn't help snickering.

Isabelle saw the look on Harry's face, and walked over to their table. "What are y'all up to?"

"Oh, just watching my date throw herself at Malfoy. Nothing much."

"Well, I thought she was a little shallow for you anyway," she said reassuringly.

"Thank you," Hermione said, vindicated.

"Looks like Lucius has to deal with her now," Isabelle laughed to herself. "Better him than me."

"You know Draco's father?" Harry asked.

"Um-hum," she said, winking at Hermione. "See y'all later."

"What was that about?" Ron asked.

"No clue. It's impossible to figure her out anyway. Sirius is the only one who seems to understand her. Better to just go with the flow," Harry replied.

"Speaking of Papa, where is he?" She scanned the room.

"Over there," Ron pointed. He was talking to Remus, Andrew Patil and Isabelle.

"He looks so bored," she pointed out. "I don't think he likes Professor Patil."

"I don't think Aunt Isabelle likes Sara," Harry said confidentially.

"Really. Interesting," Hermione said slowly. "I so want her gone before Papa marries her and she becomes my wicked stepmother."

"Ok. First of all, what gives you the idea that they're that serious? Second, she would be my wicked stepmother, too."

She looked at Harry like he just dropped in from another planet. "Oh, please. It's so obvious that she's trapped him in her web, just waiting to devour all his money."

"Has anyone ever said that you have a flair for the dramatic?"

"Don't let me say I told you so when we're stuck with her. At least she's not here tonight."

"Maybe she makes him happy, Hermione. He certainly doesn't look happy right now," Ron said.

"Maybe he doesn't dance," she said, making an excuse.

"He does dance. I've seen pictures of him dancing with Aunt Isabelle."

She turned around, eyes huge. "Harry James Potter, you're an absolute genius!"

"What did I say?"

"Oh, come on." She drug a perplexed Harry and Ron over to where Sirius was talking.

Isabelle narrowed her eyes. "What are y'all up to?"

"We wanted to see you dance," Hermione said.

"I've been dancing all night."

"Yeah, like fun stuff. For the past six months all we've heard about is how our family is famous for slow dancing. We just wanted a demonstration."

She shrugged. "You up to it, Remus?"

"Not my style. I guess you're stuck with him over there," he responded.

Sirius gulped. The last time that he had danced, really danced, was sixteen years ago at James and Lily's five year anniversary party. The two results of that particular party were staring at him expectantly. He didn't even know if he could dance anymore, and even if he could, whether it would be a good idea to dance with Isabelle. But, what would it hurt? It was only one dance, and would placate Hermione. He knew she wouldn't quit asking until he gave in.

"Ok, but nothing too slow; wouldn't want to fall asleep on the dance floor," he replied.

"You got it," Isabelle said, walking over to talk to the dj. After a minute, she returned. "All set, partner."

In the forty-five seconds that it took Isabelle to talk to the dj, the entire Great Hall buzzed with the news that Professor Evans and Professor Black were going to dance together. They walked to the center of the dance floor, and the music began.

_I don't want to hear about it anymore,  
It's a shame I've got to live without you anymore._

"Can you keep up, old man?" she teased.

"I could ask you the same question, little girl."

She winked, and began singing.

_There's a fire in my heart,  
A pounding in my brain, it's driving me crazy._

Ever since he had first taught her to dance, singing along with the tract was her trademark. But when had her voice become so sultry, so enticing? Just like a moth to a flame, Sirius found himself magnetically pulled to her, in spite of his efforts to remind himself that this is just a simple dance. But, there was nothing simple about this dance, this woman, or where she fit into his life. To distract himself from thinking, he led her though an incredibly difficult series of turns, cheered on by the crowd.

_We don't need to talk about it anymore.  
Yesterday's just a memory; can we close the door?  
I just made one mistake,  
I didn't know what to say when you called me baby._

And when did she learn to dance like this, he wondered in amazement. They moved across the floor in perfect harmony. Neither Sirius nor Isabelle had ever danced like this before – it was innocent and sensual at the same time, and breathtakingly intense. No one could take their eyes off them, wondering what they would do next.

_Don't say goodnight,  
Say you're gonna stay forever,  
Oh, whoa, all the way._

Despite his best efforts, Sirius admitted to himself that he was not a gentleman or a saint. A gentleman would not do this, he thought, sliding his hand down her back and pulling her closer to him. And a saint would feel guilty about how much he enjoyed her reaction, especially her playful grin as he began to sing along.

_Can you take me high enough  
to fly me over yesterday?  
Can you take me high enough?  
It's never over and yesterday's just a memory,  
Yesterday's just a memory.  
And I don't want to live without you anymore.   
Can't you see I'm in misery?  
And you know for sure  
I would live and die for you  
And I'd know just what to do when you call me baby. _

_Don't say goodbye  
Say you're gonna stay forever,  
Oh, whoa, all the way._

Severus Snape walked into the entrance of the castle, and heard cheers coming from the direction of the Great Hall. Although he was exhausted, his curiosity got the best of him, so he quietly crept through the hallway. Apparently there was a dance going on, a Muggle Studies one from the looks of it. And the crowd was cheering on a couple dancing. He recognized them immediately, and began to study Isabelle through narrowed eyes as the music played.

_Can you take me high enough  
Can you fly me over yesterday?  
Can you take me high enough?  
It's never over and yesterday's just a memory of running. _

_I was running  
I was running for the door  
The next thing I remember  
I was running back for more  
Oo, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah. _

Her face was so peaceful and happy as she sang the words. He called her his songbird, because she just couldn't help singing along when she danced. The first time he called her that, at her high school prom, she laughed and corrected him. She said that her singing was a dirge, because dancing brought back painful memories, but she couldn't help herself from dancing. She sang through the pain, like a thornbird, not a songbird.

Thornbird. Suddenly, he had the urge to hit something. Oh, Isabelle, you tried to tell me all along, didn't you? he thought. And I was too blind to see what was in front of me this whole time. But, you're doing your best to take away his blindness, aren't you? He shook his head, and watched, stony faced.

_Don't say goodbye  
Say you're gonna stay forever,  
Oh, whoa, all the way, all the way,  
Come all the way, yeah. _

_Can you take me high enough  
Can you fly me over yesterday?  
Can you take me high enough?  
It's never over._

Sirius was in utter torment. Admit it, you've fallen head over heels in love with the only woman on this earth who you are legally and morally forbidden from being with. For Isabelle is not just your best friend and confidant, he reminded himself. She is also your adopted daughter. And that decision, made fourteen years ago, prevents any hope of a relationship now. He felt like a knife sliced through his heart.

Isabelle looked at Sirius as the music ended, puzzled at his sudden formal demeanor. She frowned slightly, as their students crowded around them, chattering excitedly. Through the crowd, she got the distinct feeling that Severus was here. Ignoring the students' questions and compliments, she snuck out of the Great Hall and walked to the dungeons. He was leaning against a table, arms crossed.

"I've been here for five minutes. You're slipping," he said coldly.

"I know. I'm sorry, I was--"

"Indisposed. I saw. Tell me, Isabelle, how long has he played Father Ralph to your Meggie?"

She flinched, looking away. "What are you talking about?"

He grabbed her by the shoulders and looked straight into her eyes. "Lie to him, lie to yourself, even, but don't lie to me. You made your feelings perfectly clear on that dance floor."

"Always. Ever since I was a little girl," she said quietly. "I have never tried to hide it. No one wanted to see the obvious."

He snorted. "For the past two months, Isabelle, I have been living around your charming ex-husband, who swore to anyone who would listen that you left him to be with Black, and that you're a danger to their cause. I refused to believe him. But, I come home, and what do I see? That your idiot of a husband knows you better than anyone, apparently. Why did you marry him if you really loved Black?"

"I'm just a simple woman, Severus. All I've ever wanted was a husband, a family, a home to call my own. I didn't ask for fame, or fortune, or anything that people usually desire. But, I got it just the same. After nine years of waiting and hoping for a miracle, I lost hope. Sergei was there, he was charming, and-- "

"He reminded you of Sirius Black."

"At first, yes. You know the rest. Oh," she screamed, "it wasn't supposed to be this way! I wasn't supposed to fall in love with him. It was just a silly schoolgirl crush on my childhood hero. But, then Regina died. She wasn't supposed to die; I didn't want her to. Ever since the day she died, all I've ever wanted is for him to see me the same way he did her. I know he loves me, and he needs me as a person. Tonight, for those five minutes, he saw me as a woman. It's unrealistic to daydream of happy ever after with him. I love him so much that I can't live without him, but living with him is pure misery. So, please don't add to my pain, Severus."

"Add to your pain? You brought it all on yourself. I refuse to be sympathetic, Isabelle. You, of all people, should be able to see the consequences of your actions. This is life, not one of your Muggle soap operas."

"You're such a hypocrite, Severus Snape. If I'm Meggie, then you are Heathcliff from Wuthering Heights. Remember watching that movie with me when I was in high school? Spending your time mourning a woman who left you and married another man, and died bearing his child. And, oh, how much energy you devote into hating that child. If you would forget about Regina and her daughter for even five minutes, then maybe you could find happiness with someone else. But, no, you won't. You think you're so different from Sirius, but you're not. Both of you are in love with her memory. It's really quite pathetic," she spat.

"No, devoting your entire life to a man you have never had is pathetic. You are a fool for loving him, and an idiot to think that you can just live with him in platonic harmony. Please. We both know that you won't be satisfied with just those five minutes. Save the noble speeches for someone else. I'm sick of mopping up the mess you make of your personal life. You're on you own for this one. Don't come crying to me when this relationship falls apart, just like every other one you've ever had." He turned to walk out the door.

"Where are you going?"

"Away. Dumbledore isn't expecting me until after the New Year anyway. I need a break."

"From what?"

"From you and the perpetual drama that surrounds your life. I love you, but you're just a little too much to handle right now. Do me a favor and get some sense before I return. Merry Christmas."

She watched him stomp out of the dungeon without looking back. After sitting on the table for a minute to gain her composure, she walked back to the Great Hall. When she got to the doorway, the full impact of Snape's words hit her, and she leaned against the doorway, trying not to cry. He was right, of course. She needed to use her head, not her heart, about Sirius. And her head told her to leave that dance as just that – a dance. Nothing more, nothing changes.

"Isabelle? Are you alright?"

She opened her eyes. Speak of the devil, and he will appear, she thought, shaking her head no.

"What's wrong?"

Why did he have to look so concerned, so caring? "Sev's back. Well, he's gone now."

Oh, Sirius thought. "Is that why you ran out of here so quickly?"

She nodded, beginning to shake from trying not to lose her composure. Before he realized what he was doing, he pulled her to him. And despite knowing that she should just walk away from him, she clung to him for dear life.

"What did he say to you to make you this upset?"

"That I'm a fool and an idiot for loving the man I do," she said without thinking. Once the words were out of her mouth, she cursed herself for being so stupid. If Severus knew the truth, then Sirius probably did, as well. How could he not know after she walked around with her heart on her sleeve for so long?

He thought for a minute. Well, she obviously still thinks of me as a father figure. Why else would she confide in me this way? Not that I should have expected anything else, of course. His heart sank through the floor.

"Maybe Snape is right. Belle, sometimes you just love someone who doesn't love you back. And the best thing to do is to move on and find someone else who can love you and stop wasting your time dreaming about a relationship that can never be." Although he couldn't have her, he certainly didn't want Malfoy to have her, either.

Her hurt, wounded eyes stared into his, as his words pierced her soul. "Of course. You're right. Please excuse me, I have a dance to run," she responded emotionlessly, escaping to the Great Hall.

-----

This night couldn't be more perfect, Ron decided. Well, as perfect as possible, considering that every living member of Hermione's family was lurking around. But, for the past half hour, he had had her to himself. Harry and Isabelle both stomped off somewhere, and Sirius must've gone to look for one or both of them. And Krum was half a continent away. 

"Ron?"

"Hmm?"

"What's going on over there?" She nodded her head towards the refreshment table, where Isabelle was talking to Professor Patil.

"Dunno. Who cares?" he said, twirling her around on the dance floor. She laughed.

"Seriously, Ron."

"Seriously, Hermione, can't you stop nosing into other people's lives for just one dance?"

"Maybe. If you're lucky."

"I'm feeling very lucky," he said honestly. "Besides, look, they're dancing. What's so bizarre about that?"

"Oh, just the fact that Papa walked up to them and is trying to cut in. And Professor Patil doesn't look too happy."

"I think he succeeded. Hey, you want him and Isabelle to get together, don't you?"

"Yeah."

"Would you feel like you could get romantic with your daughter fifteen feet away from you?"

"Good point. Maybe we should take a walk or something. Give them some privacy."

That was exactly what Ron wanted to hear. Nope, tonight couldn't be more perfect, he thought.

-----

"What could possibly be so important that you have to take me away from my date?" Isabelle asked as they danced. 

"Two things. Well, three really. One, I'm doing you a favor by rescuing you from your 'date'. Two, I wanted to say that I'm sorry for upsetting you earlier. And the third – well, I have to show you something."

"What?"

"Come on." He led her to the now vacant trophy room.

"Ok, it's a bunch of trophies and stuff. Fascinating."

He rolled his eyes. "Not all the Quiddich cups James won. This," he said, pointing to a plaque on the wall.

"What about the Plaque of Shame?"

"Just look."

She ran her finger down the plaque showing all of the past head boys and girls, pausing at her sister's name. Tears welled up in her eyes, as she ran her finger across the engraving.

"Keep going," Sirius said.

Ten places down, her finger stopped abruptly. "You didn't."

The plaque read:  
_Head Boy: Andrew Patil  
Head Girls: Isabelle Evans; Allison Lee_

"I did. I did some research, and it turns out that you did get a Hogwarts diploma that year, and you did have higher marks than Allison Lee. By a longshot, too. So, I talked Dumbledore into updating the records. It's the first time in Hogwarts history that there have been two head girls. Congratulations on continuing the tradition of shame, Belle."

She hugged him so fiercely that he thought that she cracked at least two ribs.

"Whoa, easy there," he laughed.

She looked at him with happy, teary eyes, and he knew that this simple act had brought some closure to the past. She deserved it, and much more, for all that she had been through. Suddenly, Sirius realized that her arms were still wrapped around his neck, and just how close her face was to his. And how the look on her face seemed to mirror his own thoughts. He leaned down, and did the unthinkable.

Their lips met, and a whirlwind of emotion swept through him. No longer could he ever confuse her for the child she once was. He knew that this kiss, these feelings were wrong. Unlike a normal parent-child relationship, she had no natural animosity towards him, no need to rebel against his authority. On the contrary, whatever he said was right and proper to do was accepted without question. All those years ago, he thought he was simply helping to raise an orphaned little girl, but instead, he created his ideal woman. And this realization made her his forbidden fruit, the perfect sin. To exploit his own weakness this way was a crime against her.

But what a sweet sin it is, he admitted, as she responded to his kiss and laced her fingers through his hair. Oh, Isabelle, what have I done to you? If it's any consolation, he thought, I will spend the rest of my life in agony watching you love another man. And praying at the same time that you won't love me, that you'll be spared my pain. He broke off the kiss abruptly, and took a slight step back from her, not knowing what to say.

"Well, uh, I think I should get back to the dance now. It'll be ending soon, and I need to clean up," she babbled.

"Uh, yeah, good idea," he stammered back. If the past few minutes meant anything to Isabelle, she didn't show it. He didn't know whether to be heartbroken or relieved. They eyed each other nervously, and quickly walked to the Great Hall.

A stunned Hermione and Ron stepped out from behind a particularly large trophy case, where they had seen and heard everything.

"Can you believe that?" she whispered.

"I know. Poor Harry. Another head girl in the family. That's a lot of pressure to live up to."

"Not that, you stupid git. Papa and Isabelle kissing all over the place. Hopefully that's goodbye Sara."

Ron rolled his eyes. At this rate, he'd never get a chance to be alone with Hermione.

-----

Just pick up the trash, Isabelle. Never mind that there's a host of house-elves to do it for you, just keep working. Anything to keep from thinking about that kiss. 

That kiss. For at least fourteen years, and more if she admitted to it, she wondered what it would be like to kiss Sirius Black. And, she felt like a goofy teenager agonizing over it. She couldn't help herself –– being with him was her only childhood dream for the future. For those precious few moments, it was as if their very souls were intertwined.

Oh, shut up, she told herself. Souls intertwined? Please. He was there, I was there, we kissed, that's it. Soul mates exist only in silly romance novels, not in real life. And, the reality is that will probably never happen again.

Despite her attempts at stoicism, her face visibly fell. Why can't he love me the way that I love him? she thought. Can't he see that I'm not a child anymore? Or just how good we could be for each other? She kicked an empty drink cup across the Great Hall floor, soccer-style, that hit the wall with a loud thud and rolled under a table.

"Nice shot," Remus called from the opposite corner of the room.

"I was the captain of my soccer team in high school, thank you very much," she shot back.

"Issues?" he asked, walking across the room to where she stood.

"Sort of, yeah," she replied quietly.

"What's up?"

"I can't tell you right now," she whispered.

"Why not?" he whispered back, in a joking fashion.

"Because I don't want Sirius to know, you prat, and he's heading this way."

Remus raised his eyebrows. Ever since she was little, Sirius was always the first person she ran to with a problem, even before Lily. What kind of problem could she possibly have that she wanted to talk to him, instead?

"Are you finished?" Sirius asked them, a little too casually.

"Yeah. Remus and I are going to take a quick walk, ok? We'll see you back at the house," she said hurriedly, dragging Remus outside.

"What was that all about?"

"I need to talk to you, and it couldn't wait."

"About?"

"Well, it's about this guy," she began.

He smirked. "Uh-huh."

"Stop it! I'm serious here. Well, I've liked him for a while, and something happened tonight that just confuses me. But, you have to swear not to tell another living soul. Especially Severus."

This is sounding good, Remus thought. "Shoot."

"Sirius kissed me,"" she said very rapidly.

"Say what? Was that in Gaelic?"

"No. Sirius kissed me," she said slowly.

Remus looked at her like she had grown four new heads and developed purple polka dots. "Yeah, I think we do need to talk," he said, leading her to a secluded bench. "How did this happen?" She explained the situation briefly.

"I've fancied him since I was a little girl, Remus. I just don't know what to do."

This was not something he was prepared to handle, but yet, here she was, desperately in need of advice. What was Sirius thinking? "Well, realistically you can't be with him because he's your adopted parent," he said practically.

"Not exactly true."

"What do you mean, not exactly true?"

"Swear on my dead sister's life not to tell a living soul."

This must be serious, he thought. "I swear," he said, hoping he wouldn't live to regret it.

"Ok. Remember when you were in Germany doing your James Bond thing and the rest of us left Dover?"

"Uh-huh."

"Well, thanks to Voldemort, Lily, James and Sirius thought their days were numbered. And thanks to Petunia, I had no inheritance from my parents. And because of Harry, I couldn't inherit any money from Lily because I wasn't her direct heir anymore. Something about marital property or some mess like that. I don't know. Anyway, only Lily had custody of me, which she gave to Sirius when we moved. Is this ringing a bell?"

"Vaguely. Go on."

"So, they were afraid that if one or all of them died, I could end up penniless and back with Petunia. We all know what a terrific job she did raising me the first time around. They developed a plan where Lily and Sirius would both adopt me. That way, if one of them died, the other automatically got custody of me without having to deal with Petunia. And, I could inherit money from both of them."

"I remember that plan, Isabelle. I was there when Lily signed the papers."

"Well, yeah, that was the week that our lives fell apart. Sirius signed the papers the day he left to run after Pettigrew. Before he left, he told me to make sure to owl them to the courthouse. Well, uh, I sort of left them on the kitchen table and let Severus blow them sky high."

"No papers filed, no adoption, no incest now," he said, shaking his head in disbelief.

"Exactly."

"You have to tell Sirius, you know."

"I can't. Then he'll know how I feel about him, and have felt since I was sixteen years old."

"You could say that it was an accident. After all, it was stressful, and packing for a baby could've made you forget. But, he really needs to know the truth."

"Only if you promise not to say anything about the kiss."

"Deal." Well, Padfoot, old friend, what kind of mess have you gotten yourself into now? Remus wondered as they trudged through the snow, on their way back to the house.

-----

Isabelle quietly climbed the stairs to head for bed. It had been a long, eventful night, and she simply wanted to disappear into her room to think. At least the dance itself was a success, she thought gratefully, opening her door. She flipped on the light, and jumped. 

"I think you took ten years off my life," she gasped. "Are you a vampire, or do you just like to sit in the dark?"

"Sorry. Thanks to Azkaban, I can only think in the dark."

"What are you thinking about?" she asked awkwardly.

"Tonight. I don't know what was going on, Isabelle. It was just--"

"Crazy. And thoughtless. Maybe we should forget about it. People do odd things at Christmastime." She smiled.

At least this isn't awkward, Sirius thought gratefully. It wasn't exactly the response that he wanted from her, but at least they could talk about it. "Sure. Merry Christmas, by the way."

"Merry Christmas. That reminds me of something that I want to give you." She rummaged through her dresser drawers, until finding a tall stack of envelopes neatly tied together with red twine.

"What's this?" he asked, taking the package from her outstretched hand.

She sat down on the bed beside him, and untied the twine. "Every Christmas since you went to prison, I've written you a Christmas card. On Christmas Eve, I would sit down and write everything that's going on in my life. When I was finished, I would put a couple of pictures in the envelope, and seal it up. That way, when you got out of prison, you would know that I never forgot you during all these years. So, here you go – the past fourteen years in a nutshell."

Sirius was completely speechless. Isabelle never ceased to amaze him with her thoughtfulness and loyalty. Oh, how he loved her! If only he had listened to the advice of the past, he would have realized that falling in love with her was inevitable, and that fighting it is a war against himself. He came to Hogwarts prepared to fight against Death Eaters, Voldemort, pure evil itself, not his own heart. And no spell, charm or potion could help him win this war.

"Thank you," he managed to say. "I, uh--"

She put her finger on his lips. "It's ok. I know."

No, he thought, you don't know. And if I have my way, you'll never know just how much I love you. And need you, in every way humanly imaginable. A knock at the door interrupted his thoughts.

"Yes?" Isabelle called.

"Um, am I interrupting something?" Hermione asked with a weird look on her face.

"No," they replied simultaneously.

"What's going on?" Sirius asked.

"I'm looking for Harry. Have you seen him?"

"I haven't," Isabelle said. "Have you?" Sirius shook his head no.

"Oh. Thanks anyway," she said, disappointed. With that same weird look, she looked from Isabelle to Sirius and back again, and quickly left the room, closing the door firmly behind her.

"What was that about?"

"I don't know. She's your kid," Isabelle reminded him.

"Doesn't mean that I understand her. Well, on that note, I think I'll go to bed. Night, Belle," he said, escaping into the bathroom.


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter 14**

Harry aimlessly wandered around the castle grounds, completely oblivious to the falling snow around him. He couldn't believe that Cho left him for Draco Malfoy. It was beyond insulting, the way that they hung all over each other on the dance floor. After about five dances of trying to keep his temper, he decided to get some fresh air. That was about two hours ago. He decided to walk to the lake shore to think, and when he got close to the water's edge, he saw a golden colored lump on the small beach. As he got closer, he realized that the lump was a person.

"Um, hello?" he said at the lump.

"Go away," the lump slurred.

"Ginny?"

"Wow, chalk one up for the famous Harry Potter," she said, lifting her head from the folds of her dress, taking a swing from a bottle. She tossed it aside, and Harry saw that she was collecting quite a collection of empty bottles.

"Ginny, what are you drinking?" he asked, concerned.

"Coke. I swiped it from the Muggle Studies lab."

"Yeah, well, I think you've had enough for one night. Let me take you back to the dorm, ok?"

"You know, you're not as clever as people make you out to be," she said. "Because if you were, you'd know that Coke is not alcoholic. And that I'm drinking it because it's one o'clock in the morning, and I'm trying to stay awake to think. Not everyone you meet needs rescuing, you know."

"Fair enough," he said, sitting down and staring out over the water.

"You know, it's kind of interesting how being famous doesn't stop you from being dumped. Kind of makes the rest of us mere mortals feel better."

"Glad to be of service," he said wryly. "Why are you here, anyway? Aren't you supposed to be with Neville?"

"Yes, but he left me about three hours ago to go snog Susan Bones. So, I've joined you in the ranks of the dumped and depressed."

"Welcome to the club," he said listlessly. "Can I ask you a question?"

"Sure."

"Why is it that I am completely incapable of any sort of relationship that lasts longer than, oh, three days?"

"Do you want a real answer to that?"

"No, I'm just talking because I like the sound of my voice."

"Well, it's mostly because of your family."

"What are you talking about?"

"Ok. You come from a rich, famous family that's a target for You-Know-Who. Girls think that's cool and everything at first, but who really wants to be with a guy that could get you killed?"

Harry considered that. "Good point."

"Not only that, but you aren't exactly the easiest guy to get to know. You, Ron and Hermione are more or less a self-contained unit. I've known you for what, four, five years, and this is the first real conversation I've ever had with you."

"You mean saving your life doesn't count?"

She rolled her eyes. "No. Besides, people change."

Yes, Harry thought, people do change. He looked over at Ginny, and realized that she had changed quite a bit over the years. For starters, she wasn't as shy as she used to be. Or as awkward looking.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" she asked.

"Because, I just realized that I have known you for five years now, and I don't know much about you at all."

"Well, what do you want to know?"

"Since this is our first real conversation and everything, maybe we should start at the beginning. What's your name?"

"Guess."

"Well, it's Ginny with a G, so that rules out Jennifer, right?" he said thoughtfully.

"Right." She was shocked at Harry's behavior. Was he flirting with her?

"Hmmm...let me think, here." He sat quietly for a minute. "Ok, I give up."

"Promise you won't tell anyone?"

"Can't be that bad," he said reassuringly.

"It's Virginia," she said, wrinkling her nose.

"Virginia what?" he teased.

"Virginia Dare. Mum read the name in some history book she was reading when she was pregnant with me. The real Virginia Dare was a witch in colonial America who lived in some place called North Carolina. Horrid, huh?"

"No, I think it's kind of pretty."

"Liar," she laughed, throwing a snowball at him.

"Hey! Not fair!" He brushed the snow out of his hair, conjured up a snowball, and pelted her right in the nose. "So, Virginia, we have two options here. One, we can call a truce."

"Or, two, I can wipe that smirk off your face with this," she said, rubbing a fistful of snow into his face, knocking his glasses to the ground.

"I'm sorry it had to come to this, but I warned you." He covered her in a mound of snow before she had a chance to retaliate. "Ready to admit defeat?"

"Never," she replied, chasing him back to the castle, throwing snowballs the entire way. Both of them were completely out of breath by the time they reached Gryffindor Tower. They stood there for a minute at the portrait awkwardly.

"Well, I guess I'll be seeing you tomorrow, right?" Harry asked.

"Uh, yeah," she replied, retreating into the common room.

"See you then, Virginia," he called after her. She paused for a minute to turn around and tell him not to call her that, but stopped. For some reason, she didn't mind it so much when he called her by her full name.

-----

Sirius heard the front door slam, and quiet footsteps heading up the staircase. Everyone else was already home and asleep, so he figured that it was Harry. 

"Hey, Crookshanks," he heard him say. "Merry Christmas, cat."

Considering what Cho had done to him at the dance, Harry was in remarkably good spirits. Sirius shrugged his shoulders, and leaned his head against the headboard of his bed, thinking. He looked over at the stack of letters. Part of him wanted to read them, but the rest of him didn't want to face the horrible events those letters recounted.

Just get it over with, he told himself. He reached for the stack of letters and his reading glasses. He didn't know whether it was because of his age or years of malnutrition at Azkaban, but his eyes were growing progressively weaker. Luckily, he didn't have to wear his glasses often, or in public. He could only imagine the teasing he'd get from Isabelle if she could see him. He opened the first letter, scanning it first, then rereading certain portions for clarity.

_  
So, it's Christmas Eve. It doesn't feel much like Christmas, without any of you here. Oh, I miss all of you so much that I don't know how I make it through each day. Don't get me wrong – Severus is good to me, but, it's just not the same. Abilene, Texas, in America is a far cry from our home in Dover. _

_Can you believe that I'm in America? It seems like an odd dream, one that I hope to wake up from soon, run downstairs to tell you and Lily about, and laugh over during breakfast. But, every day I wake up, and I'm still here, alone. Well, I have Severus, and Stacey now. She keeps us going – she's so funny that she makes us forget our problems. And, we need that. _

_I know you're alone, too. I keep telling Severus that you're innocent, but he doesn't believe me. One day, someone will believe me. They just have to, and you'll get out of prison, and we'll be a family again. You'll take Harry away from Petunia, and Gracie from wherever she is, and we'll all be together. Maybe that's a stupid dream, idealistic and naive, but it's what keeps me going. _

_Merry Christmas, Sirius. Next year, we'll all be together, and I won't have to write this letter. Until then, Love, Isabelle _

It was Isabelle at sixteen, just like he remembered her. So young and full of hope, and dreams, still believing that good always triumphs over evil. He sighed, and reached for the next card. 

_  
What a difference a year makes! Well, Sev, Stacey & I finished our marvelous trip across America this summer. I think that Sev & Stacey may have a love affair one day, but that's just me crossing my fingers...guess part of me still wants a family. Anyway, we dropped her off at NYU, and we went back to Williamsburg. She tried to talk Sev into staying in New York, which is what I wanted to do, because of my dancing, of course, but he wouldn't hear a word of it. Said that New York had too many painful memories for him, still. I don't blame him, of course, and dutifully followed him back to Williamsburg. _

_Well, I decided to go to the Muggle school, Jamestown High, and you wouldn't believe what happened. I met two other witches, who were both in my year! Their parents didn't want to send them to Spotswood, either, and had them privately tutored throughout school. Well, now Sev tutors all three of us. We're inseparable – people call us the Three Musketeers – me, Sarah Lindsay Parker, and Brittany Spence. Oh, the mischief we create around campus... _

_But, that's not the best part. They have older brothers! Sarah Lindsay has one brother, Jake, who's 18. And Brittany has two brothers, Thomas, who's 19, and Phillip, who's 21. Well, Sarah Lindsay's dating Thomas, and Brittany's dating Jake. And, I'm seeing Phillip, although Sev says that a college junior has no business with a high school junior. He's such a prude. _

Sirius raised his eyebrow. He never thought that he'd agree with Snape on anything, but what business did a twenty-one year old man have with a seventeen-year-old girl? Shaking his head, he read on. 

_  
Jake, Thomas & Phillip are all at the local Muggle university, the College of William & Mary, mostly because they don't want to get jobs at the Office of Magical Affairs yet. My fellow Musketeers and I will probably join them when we graduate high school – oh, I can hardly wait! _

_I still miss you terribly, and can't wait until you can get out of prison. Merry Christmas, Sirius. Next year, we'll all be together, and I won't have to write this letter. Until then, Love, Isabelle _

He smiled, putting down the letter, happy that it didn't take long for Isabelle to adjust to her new surroundings. But then again, he reminded himself, she has always been a survivor. He read through the next few letters, which were full of stories from her college years. The next letter that caught his attention was the Christmas after her twenty-second birthday. 

_  
Oh, Sirius, this is such a bittersweet Christmas. Sweet because I graduated college with honors, and got into the doctoral chemistry program at NYU. I'm finally in New York! The best part is that I'm allowed to do a lot of independent research, to accommodate my performance schedule. _

_It's bitter because this is my first Christmas without Phillip. He proposed to me after graduation, and I suppose I should've seen it coming. We had been together for five years, and I guess he was ready for the next stop, but I'm not. He took it well, and we're still friends, but the holidays are a little hollow on my own. _

_I wouldn't feel as lonely if I had been able to go home to Williamsburg, but I had to perform The Nutcracker in Sydney tonight. The show must go on, right? That's what I keep telling myself, watching all the happy couples and families walk down the street through the window of this café. _

_Brittany was the first Musketeer to make it to the Wren Chapel. That's the chapel at our university, and we all swore that we'd get married there. It's a silly promise, but that's what makes life great. Friendships where you keep silly promises...anyway, I suppose that M.J.'s appearance into this world has something to do with her and Jake's quick wedding...Sarah Lindsay is still with Thomas. A world full of happiness – why can't I find my soul mate? I'm beginning to think that he simply doesn't exist. _

_Don't worry about me, though. I've made a friend on the road. He's actually the owner of the company, which is a little awkward because I'm his employee. But, he makes me laugh, and is intelligent, a great dancer. Sergei is supposed to meet me soon for dinner; he doesn't have any family, either, so we're spending Christmas together. _

_Even after six years, I open the Daily Prophet each day, hoping to see that somehow, you've been freed. Sev brought me pictures of Harry and Gracie for an early Christmas present last week. They've gotten so big! And, I miss you so much. I still wish on our star every night that next year, we'll all be together, and I won't have to write this letter. Until then, Love, Isabelle _

Sirius impatiently skimmed through the next two letters, until he got to the Christmas after she married Sergei Remizov, when she was twenty-five years old. 

_  
Merry Christmas. Ha. What's so merry about a season that only reminds you of how you have no family to speak of, and how miserable your life is? And, how much you've messed things up? Merry my foot. _

_I'm sorry if this letter is shorter than usual, but I have only a half hour before my husband gets home from work. Yes, my husband, can you believe it? I am now the Countess Isabelle Remizov, trophy bride of the rich and famous Count Sergei Remizov. _

_Please excuse me for being overly bitter. This wasn't how my life was supposed to turn out, Sirius. He tricked me, fooled me into thinking that he cared about me, but all he cares about is that I keep dancing for him, and my potions making abilities. Did I mention that he's a Death Eater? Not just any Death Eater, either. He was personally involved in the plot that killed my sister and put you in prison. And destroyed our family. _

_Sorry for being so down. On a happier note, Sarah Lindsay and Thomas visited the Wren Chapel this spring. Yet another shotgun wedding...I seem to have broken every Musketeer wedding tradition. I eloped in Las Vegas, and there are no children on the way. _

_I wish you were here to help me out of this mess. But, I'm beginning to realize that you're never coming back. And, writing these letters is just my way of trying to hold on to a past that's long gone, and a dream of a future that will never be. My future is here, with Sergei and the ballet company, and I need to make it work somehow. I'm sorry I betrayed you and the whole family, Sirius, by marrying him. Maybe one day you could forgive me. I love you, Isabelle _

He put down the letter slowly, digesting Isabelle's words. Forgive her? He was the one who deserted her, left her alone to die. If anyone needed forgiveness, it was him, not her. A wave of guilt swept over him as he read about her abusive husband, her stay in Azkaban, and relationship with Lucius Malfoy. From what she wrote, Malfoy was the only positive thing in her life at the time, which sickened Sirius. What a sad life she lives, he thought while reading the letter describing the fall after she left her husband. 

_  
How foolish of me to think that I could just walk away from Sergei without a price. How utterly naive. Why couldn't I have paid for my mistakes, not my daughter? My precious little girl, if only you could've seen her. I do have a picture of her that I always keep with me, but somehow I doubt that our paths will cross again. _

_I'm going home, where I should've been all along, instead of chasing rainbows. After the New Year, I'm leaving Hogwarts, where Sev has been taking care of me. Harry plays Quiddich even better than James, I think. It was funny – I kept scanning the bleachers to find Gracie, even though I know I can't recognize her. _

_I did see you, though, padding through campus. Don't worry, no one knows that you're an animagus. Other than Remus, who is so ragged looking. Time has not been kind to any of us, huh? _

_Speaking of time, it's time for me to move on, and let go of all of you. A big part of my heart will always belong to you and the children, maybe the best part, but the rest of me needs to go home where I'm actually needed. Home is Virginia now, not Dover, or Sheffield, or Brighton. I still miss you desperately, and hope that you find the happiness you've always looked for. I will always love you, Isabelle _

Sirius couldn't read another word. He ruined her life, and here she is, making excuses for wanting to go home, where people obviously loved her. Who are these people, he wondered, and why hasn't she mentioned them until now? For some reason, he took it for granted that he, Remus, Harry and Hermione were her only family, the only people she really cared about. These letters introduced him to a whole new world of people, a completely different family. 

A world that he wasn't a part of. Suddenly, the years he and Isabelle were apart seemed like a lifetime. And she had left him behind a long time ago. But, why would she come back, then?

For the children, of course, he realized. She adored them, and always had, ever since they were born. Naturally she would want to watch them grow up, and be a part of their lives. But, what about him? That question plagued him as he turned out the light, and tried to fall asleep.

-----

Harry woke up earlier than anyone else Christmas morning, and couldn't go back to sleep, no matter what he tried. Finally, at five thirty in the morning, he padded over to Hermione's bedroom and quietly knocked on the door. 

"What?" came a very grumpy mumble from the other side of the door.

"I can't sleep."

"Fine." A minute later, she opened the door.

"Sorry," he said sheepishly.

She rolled her eyes as he walked inside and plopped down on the bed. "Why are you so chipper, anyway?"

"No reason, other than that it annoys you."

"Why were you so late coming home last night?"

"What is this, twenty questions?" She glared at him. "Fine, I was taking a walk with Ginny."

"Ginny Weasley?"

"Do you know of another Ginny?"

"Well, no."

Harry spotted something in the corner of his room that made his temper flare. "Please tell me why there's a tie on your dresser that looks an awful lot like Ron's."

"Hmm?"

"Hermione, don't play with me."

"I don't know why it's here, ok? Satisfied?"

"No," he said vehemently.

"Alright. Well, we left the dance to take a walk, right, and I remembered that my mum won some award when she was a student here. So, Ron and I went to the trophy room to look for it, and then Papa and Isabelle came in. And then they started kissing, so we figured that they might head back here to snog or whatever. So, we ran back here real quick, changed, and walked around Hogsmeade for a while. Ron must've left his tie on the dresser when he was changing. Now are you happy?"

"Ecstatic. And all you and Ron did was walk?" She turned a deep scarlet, and looked down at the bed, tracing the pattern of the bedspread with her finger. "Thought so."

"I just don't know what to do, Harry."

"It's pretty simple. Stay away from boys. We're nothing but trouble." He winked at her.

"Isn't that the truth. Well, I have a couple of weeks at my parents' house to think about it," she sighed.

"Looking forward to it?" Harry leaned back on the bed and put his hands behind his head, looking at his cousin though slitted eyes.

"Yeah. I miss them, although I think I'll miss here worse when I'm there. Aren't you glad that you don't have to go to the Dursleys'?"

"Don't even go there. Be glad you're not related to them."

"Do you think it's odd that Isabelle hasn't contacted them at all?"

"No. Well, a little. From what Sirius says, Aunt Petunia was much worse to her than me. I couldn't imagine." Something finally clicked in Harry's mind. "Wait a minute here. Did you say that Sirius and Aunt Isabelle were kissing?"

"Wondered how long it would take you to bring that up."

"Sorry, I was a little preoccupied with the idea of my best friend snogging my cousin."

"You prat," Hermione said, smacking him in the face with a pillow.

"How much are you going to pay me not to tell Sirius? Hey, I just thought of something. Both of you are dating one person and snogging another. Genetics at work."

"Excuse me, Saint Harry. It's not like either of us is married or anything," she huffed.

"Don't defend yourself to me. I just want to be there when Viktor finds out," Harry laughed.

"You're insufferable."

"And you are in so much trouble. Was it worth it?"

"What?" Hermione's face turned red again.

"I didn't stutter."

"Yeah, it was worth it," she admitted. "So, what were you and Ginny doing?"

"Told you already. Walking."

"Sure you were. Come on, Harry. You can tell me," she said, rolling over on her stomach and crossing her ankles in the air.

"Walking. I swear," he added at the skeptical look on her face.

"Are you serious?" He nodded. "Harry Potter, you're boring," she pronounced, sounding remarkably like her mother.

"Me? Boring? Might I remind you that before you became friends with me, you never lifted your head out of a book?"

"That was years ago, Harry," she said archly. "People change."

He rolled his eyes. "Not enough. You're still obnoxious."

"Might I remind you that you knocked on my door?"

"Please don't. Next time, I'll just hang out in the hall with Crookshanks."

Hermione yawned. "Harry, either we go back to bed or go open presents. Hearing about your love life is making me sleepy, it's so dull."

"And yours is giving me heartburn."

"Cute. So, what's it going to be?" She laid her head down on her arms. "It's the first family Christmas since we were toddlers. What do you think?"

"Good point. You get Papa and Professor Lupin; I'll get Isabelle."

"Why are you sticking me with the grumps?"

"Because you woke me up at five thirty in the morning."

Harry gave her an evil look, but didn't argue. He walked out into the hallway, trying to decide who to wake up first. Chances are that he'd already woken up Sirius, so he figured that he may as well knock on his door first. He knocked on the door loudly, but got no response.

"Um, Sirius?" he called in a stage whisper. He looked over at Hermione.

"I'm not getting an answer."

"Isabelle's not answering, either. This is really weird. Papa always answers the door, usually before you even knock."

"I know. Do you think we should open the door?"

"Uh, well--"

"I get the idea." Harry shrugged his shoulders. "Well, want to raid the refrigerator?"

"Sure."

They quietly crept down the stairs, stopping abruptly when they walked into the living room. In the middle of carefully stacked piles of presents were Sirius and Isabelle, sound asleep. Isabelle was draped over an ottoman with a red bow stuck in her hair, and Sirius was stretched out on the floor, halfway under the Christmas tree.

Harry and Hermione couldn't help snickering, which immediately woke up Sirius, who sat up without thinking, knocking over the tree. Mumbling under his breath, he quickly righted the tree and rearranged the ornaments. He snuck a glance at Isabelle, and breathed a sigh of relief that she was still peacefully sleeping. She would've had a fit if she knew that he just ruined her hours of hard work. He thought it was a bit much to spend so much time decorating a Christmas tree at three o'clock in the morning, anyway.

"What is so funny?" Sirius muttered, trying to hide a small smile.

"Nothing," Hermione said unconvincingly. "Nothing at all."

"What's going on?" Isabelle sat up slowly, blinking rapidly to bring her eyes into focus. Her neck ached both from wrapping presents and sleeping in that awkward position. Sirius really owed her for waking her up at two-thirty in the morning in a panic because he forgot to ask Dobby to wrap the presents and set up the Christmas tree. Some family patriarch he is, she thought wryly. He needs me. If only he needed me for something other than raising the children. She frowned, and managed to grab the hem of Harry's robes as he made a beeline for his pile of presents.

"Oh no, you don't. I didn't just spend a delightful evening wrapping these presents for you to destroy my handiwork. We're going to spend at least a half hour admiring them first."

"What? Are you serious?" Isabelle and Sirius both crossed their arms and glared at Harry. "That's not fair."

"Life's not fair. The sooner you learn it, the better off you'll be. Come on, scoot," she said, herding the children into the kitchen. "Breakfast time."

"Wicked stepmother," Hermione grumbled under her breath.

"No, I believe there's someone else whose more deserving of that particular title, Gracie dear. Bagel?" Isabelle hissed back.

Hermione stopped dead in her tracks, and pulled Isabelle into the dining room. "What do you mean? Is--"

"I don't know what your father's intentions with Sara are. That's one area of his life I just don't want to know about. It's just that we might have to get used to her being around," she said resolutely.

"But I don't understand. I saw you last night with him."

"You didn't see anything," she replied though clenched teeth.

"My eyesight is perfect. It's so obvious that you care for each other. Why can't you be together, make us a real family. Just the four of us. Well, five with Professor Lupin, but that's not the point. The point is that--"

Isabelle had finally had enough of her cheek. She took Hermione by the shoulders, and looked her straight in the eyes. "I'm only going to tell you this once. I cannot be with your father, ever, because it is forbidden. Do you understand?"

A look of understanding flashed in Hermione's eyes. "Perfectly. But, why is it forbidden?"

"It's completely taboo. And, even if it was permissible in society's eyes, it's certainly not something that our family, this family would approve of."

"That's not true. Harry and I would approve. So would Professor Lupin, probably. And, the rest of the family is dead and gone, Isabelle. Who cares what they would think? Things are different now."

"Not different enough."

"Why won't you fight for him?"

"Because I'll lose, because he doesn't think of me that way. And if I make a fool of myself, I lose everything – him, you and Harry. It's better just to leave things be."

Hermione traced the pattern of the rug with her toe. "I feel the same way about Ron."

"Why do we even bother with men, huh? Come on, it looks like we both need some serious chocolate therapy." Isabelle led her to the kitchen before she could ask any more difficult questions. They loaded up plates with various concoctions that were piled on the counter, and headed back to the living room.

"So, decided to join the land of the living?" Isabelle asked Remus, who merely grunted in reply, and proceeded to down an entire cup of tea in one huge gulp. Harry kept giving her imploring looks, so she finally broke down and allowed him to dive into his pile of gifts.

Wrapping paper, bows, tissue paper, and ribbon filled every square inch of floor space as everyone quickly opened their presents.

"Wow," Hermione breathed, opening Isabelle's present. Inside a colorful crate was at least a dozen hardback books.

"I read all of these in high school, and figured you might like them, too," she explained. "Something to do over break."

"Thanks," came a distracted reply, thumbing through _Sense and Sensibility_, which she piled on top of _Les Miserables_, The _Thorn Birds_ and _Gone with the Wind_.

Harry opened a large box full of the latest Quiddich equipment. He peered into the box, amazed, pulling out its contents onto the floor. Soon, the living room looked like the inside of Quality Quiddich Supplies, and Isabelle was giving Sirius an evil look from behind her iced tea glass.

"It's Christmas," he defended himself. She bit her tongue at the happy look on Harry's face.

"Oh, almost forgot. This is for you," she said, handing Sirius a small box. "It's from Hagrid and I."

He gave her a funny look, and pulled out a statuette of an incredibly strange looking creature.

"It's a riddle," she continued. "If you can figure it out, you'll know exactly what your present is."

"Looks like something Hagrid would like, all right," Harry whispered to Hermione, who laughed.

"Is that what I think it is?" Remus asked Isabelle quietly.

"Yup."

Sirius was carefully studying the statuette, turning it over in the palm of his right hand. After a minute, he held it out to Hermione. "Do you know what this thing is?"

"Sure. It's a sea serpent."

"How do you know that?" he asked, winking at Isabelle. He knew exactly what it was, or at least, he hoped that he did.

Hermione shrugged. "It's pretty simple. Only sea serpents have heads like a horse, and a long body like a snake."

Sirius put the statuette on the floor. It seemed that she had inherited her mother's general inability to think logically, which greatly disappointed him.

"Wait a minute." Hermione's eyes lit up. "I read in a book that kelpies sometimes take the form of a sea serpent. So, this could be either a kelpie or a sea serpent."

"What's a kelpie?" Harry couldn't believe the weird things she read about in her spare time.

"A water demon that's usually found in the British Isles. The most famous one is the Loch Ness Monster in Scotland. But, why would Isabelle give you a figurine of the Loch Ness Monster? I'm missing something here."

"What you're missing is that Isabelle has a very twisted sense of humor. Come outside, and I'll show you what this is." He led them outside, thankful that Hermione did inherit his common sense, after all. He placed the statuette on the ground. "So, what's the spell to transfigure this thing?"

Isabelle smiled. "The old one. Be careful not to say it too loudly this time."

"Figures." Sirius muttered a complex series of incantations under his breath, and the little statuette began to grow rapidly. After about ten seconds, it had become a very large motorcycle. "How'd you find it, Belle?"

"Hagrid kept it in a shed. All I had to do was fix it up."

"You know how to work on a bike?"

"Yeah, dated a NASCAR pit crew chief once, and spent way too much time in the garage with his grease monkey friends. I can work on cars, bikes, whatever."

"No kidding?" Sirius was impressed. What a woman, he thought, shaking his head in amazement.

"I even made some minor adjustments," she added.

"Adjustments?" He put his arms across his chest, and glared at her.

"I didn't make the bike wussy. On the contrary, I added a little extra kick, in the form of NOS."

"You put a nitrous oxide system on this thing?"

"A magically enhanced nitrous oxide system. It just might be the fastest vehicle on the planet. Wanna see?" Isabelle hopped on the bike, and fired it up. "What are you waiting for? Gotten chicken in your old age?"

"Never," he replied, jumping on the bike. His hesitation had nothing to do with the bike's speed, and everything to do with being this close to her.

"Hold on tight," she called back, pressing a small red button.

The bike disappeared into the trees. Remus stood there, thinking. What had just happened? It seemed to him that Isabelle managed to get Sirius right where she wanted him – alone with her. And Sirius didn't seem to mind one bit; in fact, he reciprocated every one of her advances. Well, as much of an advance as she dared to give in front of the children. His two best friends were obviously playing with fire, and he didn't want to get in the middle of it. His head began to throb, as the bike came into view and stopped with a loud squeal in front of the house.

"Didn't realize how much I missed this old thing," Sirius said, transfiguring the bike back into the figurine of a kelpie. "You really are twisted."

"Thank you," Isabelle replied, smiling.

"Why is she twisted?" Harry asked, puzzled.

His aunt laughed. "I'll tell you once we go back inside. It's freezing cold out here."

Remus pulled Isabelle away from the rest of the family as they rushed back indoors. "You are so playing with fire."

"Oh, please. The fire between the two of us is as big as a lighted match. You worry too much, my friend."

"Ok, we're inside," Hermione said impatiently.

"She transfigured the bike into a kelpie because a long time ago, I really wanted a motorcycle, but your mother didn't want me to get one," Sirius began.

"That's an understatement," Isabelle interrupted, turning to Remus and putting one hand on her hip.

"I don't know why you want one of those death machines, Sirius," she spat.

"It's not a death machine," Remus replied with mock patience. "It's no different than riding a broomstick."

"Other than the fact that it's three times as fast as James' racing broom? I just can't help but think about all those times you weren't looking and smacked into that tree in the backyard."

"Regina, we were nine years old."

"And you haven't gotten any better at riding a broomstick since, so a motorcycle is completely out of the question. End of discussion."

Isabelle and Remus started laughing hysterically at the look on Sirius' face.

"Oh, come on," Remus said, clutching his sides because they had started hurting from laughter. "Lighten up. You're not the one who had to hear that argument three times a day for six months."

"No, I just lived it. Anyway, Regina was being stubborn about it, so one day I just gave up trying to persuade her to get one. Or, so she thought. I bought the bike and transfigured it into another object. Well, one day she found out, and it wasn't a very pretty scene."

"To say the least," Isabelle added. "I can't believe you transfigured a flying motorcycle into your wedding ring."

"Why not?" Sirius defended himself. "That way, I always had it around when I wanted to use it."

"Yeah, until Gina found the real ring one day when she was going through a drawer. It didn't take her long to figure out what he was up to. Mistake number one: he quit bugging her all of a sudden one day. Bound to make her suspicious. Mistake number two: he really should've transfigured the real ring into a potted plant or something. Let's put it this way – it's a miracle you were conceived, Hermione, because after your mother was done with him, we all doubted that he possessed that particular ability."

"Witty, Isabelle. Finished with your commentary now?" Sirius said in a tone of voice that would make most people tremble with fright, but only made Isabelle laugh harder, until her face turned purple.

"But, what does that have to do with a kelpie?" Harry asked.

"After that, Regina went on a rampage, trying to find whatever I transfigured the bike into so that she could get rid of it. She called the bike Nessie, because it changed shapes to something harmless and could kill people in its true form quickly like a kelpie. I managed to keep it from her, only because I invented a spell that only I and the snoop over there knew how to perform. After a couple of years, our um, disagreement became well known and everyone started calling my bike Nessie." He rolled his eyes.

"I thought turning it into a kelpie was a nice touch," Isabelle pouted, gaining a raised eyebrow from Remus.

"You would."

A loud knock interrupted Isabelle's response, and Sirius jumped up to get the door. Hermione groaned inwardly when Sara walked inside. Why does she have to come here and ruin everything? Hermione thought. She loved hearing stories about her parents when they were young, and especially enjoyed hearing about her mother. And, the second that Sara showed up, her mother became a taboo subject. She hoped to have a long talk with her father about Sara on the train ride to her parents' house tomorrow. About how she didn't like her at all. And how things would be much better if he was with Isabelle. At least Isabelle didn't mind talking about her mother, wasn't jealous of her memory.

"Gold digger's here," Isabelle whispered in Hermione's ear. "Good thing I have the vault keys with me." They both started laughing.

"At least she can't touch my trust fund," Harry added, making the volume of the laughter increase until Sirius was giving them an odd look.

Luckily, a racket at the doorway diverted everyone's attention. Remus opened the door, and five Weasleys, Fleur, Angelina and Star rushed inside, laughing and joking with their arms filled with presents.

"Merry Christmas, everybody," Charlie called over the din. "I'd just like to announce that Fleur had a bout of temporary insanity last night and agreed to marry me."

"No, I think the insanity's a permanent condition," Fleur replied, smiling broadly, obviously madly in love. The couple was instantly surrounded by people congratulating them, and offering various advice.

The house was utter chaos, as everyone chatted, ate and opened presents. The students were taking a cautious tour of the house, having never been to the faculty grounds before. In the pandemonium, Ron and Hermione snuck upstairs to her bedroom.

"We have exactly two minutes before someone starts looking for us."

"I know, Hermione. It's just that I, uh, well, about last night," Ron stuttered, turning a bright shade of red.

"Don't worry about it. People do crazy things at dances. It's nothing to ruin our friendship over, right?"

"Right." He looked into her worried grey eyes, and wanted to say that it wasn't just a random snog to him, that it meant something. She meant something to him – everything, actually.

"Well, I guess we'd better get downstairs." Hermione's thoughts were muddled as she followed Ron downstairs. On the one hand, last night wasn't just a casual fling to her. But, on the other hand, Isabelle was completely right. She had everything to lose if things didn't work out between she and Ron. Confused, she sat on the stoop at the bottom of the staircase, and rested her head on her hands.

She sat there for a few minutes, just thinking of what to do about Ron, and Viktor. Viktor had always been so good to her, and was a real shoulder to lean on this year, considering that her entire world changed in a day. And, Ron was her best friend; how did that translate into a romantic relationship? It worked for my parents, she reminded herself. Just as she decided to ask Isabelle more questions about how her parents got together, two exasperated voices floated into the hallway from the dining room. Intrigued, Hermione stayed put, trying to hear the conversation.

"Come on, Isabelle. I'm scared to death to go to my future in-laws' house."

"Fleur, you've met the entire family already. What's the problem?"

"I really want to make a good impression on Charlie's mom. And, I could really use you there as moral support. You're like an older sister to me. Please?"

"No."

"Harry's going there for the rest of the holidays, right? You could go as his guardian, to make sure that he got there alright. And, to meet the people who have been so much of an influence in his life."

Isabelle sighed. "You win. But, I'll only stay at the Burrow for the morning."

"You're a sainted woman."

A loud explosion from the kitchen echoed throughout the first floor of the house. Everyone ran to see what the origin of the noise was, and found Fred hurriedly trying to fix a large black crater in the middle of the floor.

"What in the world happened here?" Sirius asked sharply.

"Uh, sir, well, we were trying out a new trick." Fred gulped.

"Which was?"

"Shooting Soda Cans. When you open them, they're supposed to spray you in the face, but it looks like we haven't worked out all the kinks," Fred said meekly.

"Obviously," he replied through clenched teeth, looking at the crater. Fred took a quick step back at the look on his face; Sirius Black's temper was legendary. And it looked like he was about to experience it first hand.

"It's no worse than what you used to do, Sirius. No permanent damage, really. Besides, it's Christmas," Isabelle said softly, so that only he could hear her.

He looked down at her, and his expression softened. "Be sure to clean the mess up," he barked, and stormed off to the living room.

"Whatever Professor Evans said just saved your life," Angelina said to Fred, wide-eyed.

"No doubt. I seriously owe her." He and George quickly repaired the floor, and snuck outside through the dining room, figuring it was best to lay low for a while.


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter 15**

A few hours later, the house was eerily quiet. Too quiet, Isabelle thought suspiciously as she walked through the door. Sirius didn't look too pleased when she left for Andrew's quarters two hours ago, but at least she didn't parade him in front of the family. She sighed. It was an explicit rule that no significant others of any of the adults were to be around the children, unless it was a serious relationship. Growing up, she never met any of Sirius' or Remus' old girlfriends. The fact that Sirius kept bringing Sara to the house bothered her greatly. She flopped down on the sofa, and immersed herself in a book.

"Hi, Harry," she said, completely hidden by the couch.

He jumped a mile and gulped. "Hello."

"What are you up to?"

"Nothing much. Probably going to head to the dorm."

"Don't stay out too late. Have fun," she called as he walked out of the door.

I didn't tell her a lie, Harry convinced himself, standing on the front porch. I just didn't tell her the whole truth. What were you supposed to say? Hey, I snuck upstairs with Ginny after you left, and guess what, she's still in my room? As if either Aunt Isabelle or Sirius would believe that all we did was talk. Not that he wouldn't have minded a snog session, but the fact that she's Ron's little sister nagged him in the back of his mind. However, it certainly didn't bother Ron that he was snogging his cousin. And, Hermione wasn't a bit concerned that Viktor might find out about Ron. That was made clear when she snuck off to the trophy room with him earlier. Harry just didn't want to think about that whole situation.

What he did want to think about was how Ginny was going to get out of the house with Isabelle there. They decided to leave separately so that no one would get suspicious, but that idea already backfired. She was stranded upstairs, and he had no choice but to go to Gryffindor Tower and pray that she doesn't get caught.

"Harry? Are you ok?"

No, I'm not, he panicked. I am so busted. Why does Hermione get away with everything, he thought crossly. "I'm fine. Just going to the dorm to hang out with Hermione and Ron." She so owes me for covering for her, too.

"Have fun," Sirius shrugged, walking into the house.

He walked into the living room, and sat down in the chair opposite the sofa, right beside the massive fireplace. Isabelle didn't look up as he threw another log on the fire.

"Uh, Isabelle?"

"Um-hum?"

"I never did thank you for helping me this morning."

"Don't worry about it." She looked up, smiled briefly, and returned to her book.

"What are you reading?" Sirius was desperately trying to start a conversation with her, but she seemed completely disinterested in him.

"I'm rereading _Les Miserables_."

"Oh." Completely discouraged, he stared into the fire, thinking.

A loud racket at the window made both Isabelle and Sirius jump. Carrying a massive package was a large black raven, noisily pounding the windowpanes with its beak. Isabelle ran to the front door, and the raven flew in, dropping the package neatly on the ottoman. The raven sat down beside the package, and started squawking.

"Merry Christmas to you, too, Saskia," Isabelle laughed, opening the enormous envelope and removing its contents. She skimmed a lengthy letter, and her face fell.

"What's that?"

"It's from my lawyer. Phillip says that Sergei's challenging our divorce after all."

Her words shocked Sirius. He knew from Isabelle's letters that her ex-boyfriend Phillip Spence was an attorney, but he didn't know that Spence was her lawyer. And, what was going on with her divorce? She didn't look shocked at the news, so obviously this conflict was not new. Why hadn't she told him about it?

Ginny Weasley peeked around the staircase to see who was talking in the living room, and gulped. Two professors, who just so happened to be Harry's guardians, were involved in what looked like a private conversation. If she was caught, she could not imagine the trouble she would be in. She shuddered, thinking about what happened to her brothers earlier. Petrified, her body involuntarily froze, so she had no choice but to overhear the conversation.

"Belle, what's going on?" Sirius asked, sitting beside her on the couch.

"It's nothing for you to worry about," she replied, looking out the window. He reached out and turned her face towards him. Her eyes were red and full of tears.

"Please let me help you. I don't want to find out what's wrong when it's too late," his voice broke off. He took a minute to regain his composure. "When it's too late to save you. I can't lose you, too."

"It's already too late. He'll never leave me alone, not as long as I'm alive." She tapped the large stack of papers. "And, as long as this divorce stands, I live."

"I don't understand how he can contest the divorce in the first place."

"It's a really legalistic argument. It's not a big deal."

"Try me."

"Alright. There are two different court systems – Muggle and Wizard Courts. Wizard Courts will only hear cases that involve an issue of wizarding law. Otherwise, the issue has to go to a Muggle Court. With me so far?"

"Yes."

"Well, the Wizarding Courts recognize some marriages, but not others. To have a wizarding marriage, you have to use certain rites, and do certain traditions, like the rings. Most couples these days don't bother with all that and just get a Muggle marriage. The advantage to a Muggle marriage is that getting a divorce is a lot easier than a wizarding marriage. Muggle courts recognize what's called a no-fault divorce, which means that all you have to do is be separated for a certain period of time, and then file the papers. Wizarding courts do not have no-fault divorces, so someone has to be at fault for ruining the marriage to get a divorce."

"Ok," Sirius said slowly. "What does this have to do with you?"

"Sergei and I married in Las Vegas using Muggle rites. So, because it was a Muggle marriage, I got a Muggle no-fault divorce in Virginia. Sergei argued to the Wizarding Court in Williamsburg that because I wore a traditional wizarding wedding band, that made our marriage a wizarding one. He lost."

"What's the difference?"

"If the Muggle divorce is invalid, then we're still married. He doesn't want to divorce me, because although he can win on fault grounds, he'd rather kill me and get all my property rights than have a regular divorce settlement. At least, I don't think he wants a divorce. Divorce because of desertion wouldn't be worth his time, but if he could prove adultery…" Isabelle turned a ghostly shade of grey.

"But, there's no way to prove it," Sirius reassured her.

"As long as they don't find my baby."

"Yeah, but what are the chances of--" he stopped at the look on her face. "Never mind, then."

"That must be his motive. Someone must've tipped him off, and he's out for blood. My blood." She shut her eyes tightly, thinking. "He's much richer than I am, so money's not it. All my property is in trust for Harry, so he can't touch that. What other reason could there be?"

"The inheritance rights to a little over a third of the assets in Gringotts' bank," Sirius fumed. "He didn't know who you really were when you were married. And that you stand to inherit half of my money. If you were found to be at fault for ruining your marriage because of your incredibly foolish affair, the Court could assign part or all of your rights to my money over to him."

"Well, that's a good theory, but I can't inherit a dime from you."

"Yes, you can, remember? I legally adopted you right before I was shipped off to Azkaban." Which was the most idiotic decision of my life, he cursed himself.

"Um, the adoption didn't go through." She braced herself for his temper. The very last thing he said to her before leaving the house that night was to be sure to put the papers in the owl post.

Sirius couldn't believe his ears. "What?"

"I'm sorry, I really am. It's just that I was scared, and then Sev came, and there was so little time to pack or do anything. I think I left them on the kitchen table," she said in a rush.

"Are you sure?" he asked in a daze.

"Positive. I had Phillip look into it. The papers were never filed."

Merry Christmas Sirius Black, he thought, looking at Isabelle as if for the first time. Her lower lip trembled a bit, and he suddenly realized that she thought that he was angry with her. In reality, he could not remember the last time he was this happy. Being with her was still incredibly taboo and possibly immoral, but that was a giant leap above forbidden and incestuous.

"It's ok. Really," he added. "Everything will be ok, I swear."

"Oh, is your inner eye actually working today?" she joked, relieved that he wasn't upset.

"Maybe. I know my outer ones are." He flashed her his most flirtatious grin. It had never failed him.

"Sirius, if I didn't know better, I'd think that you were making a pass at me just now."

"And, what if I was?" he said seriously.

"Stop it," she laughed. "You're not funny. You expect me to believe you, when I grew up around your pranks? Please."

He scowled. "I'm serious sometimes." Like now, he thought.

She rolled her eyes, and walked to the kitchen, still snickering. Sirius could only stare at her in disbelief. No woman had ever turned him down before, and Isabelle wounded his pride very badly just now. Frowning, he followed her to the kitchen.

I just need to prove myself, that's all, he decided. At least she didn't reject me outright.

As soon as Sirius was out of sight, a very shaken Ginny seized the opportunity to dash out the front door and raced back to the safety of Gryffindor Tower, grateful that she hadn't been caught.

-----

The next morning, Isabelle was the last person to wake up and get ready for the day because she kept having nightmares about when she was with Sergei, and didn't get much sleep. Bleary-eyed, she stumbled into the kitchen, grabbed a massive mug of hot tea, and joined everyone else in the living room. 

"Morning," she yawned, conjuring up a piece of paper and a pen. She quickly drafted a letter, placed it in an envelope, and sealed it tightly. She snapped her fingers twice, and the massive raven appeared from nowhere and settled on the ottoman.

"What's that?" Harry asked, eyeing the bird suspiciously.

"This," she said, petting its head, "is Saskia. She belongs to an old friend of mine who sent me a post yesterday. Phillip says that he prefers ravens because they're faster and can carry more weight than owls. But, I think it's because he likes Edgar Allan Poe."

"Who?" Hermione inquired.

Isabelle smiled. "He's only the inventor of the short story format and one of the few wizards to become famous as a Muggle author. Poe wrote a lot of his stuff in Richmond, not far from my flat, actually. Anyway, one of his most famous works is 'The Raven'. When we were in college, Phillip was always reading Poe." She looked directly at the bird. "Saskia, 'quote the raven'…"

"Nevermore," the bird said promptly. Everyone stared in disbelief.

"Did the bird just talk?" Remus asked.

"Yep. Phillip teaches his ravens tricks, too. You'll appreciate this one, I think. Saskia, shake what your mama gave you." She turned around and started shaking her tail feathers. The room erupted in hysterical laughter. Sirius nearly fell out of his chair, and Remus had to wipe away tears.

"Ok, Saskia, enough showing off," Isabelle laughed, tying the letter to her leg, and opening the front door. The raven chirped goodbye, flew outside, and disappeared into the winter sky. She turned to Harry. "Ready to go?"

"Yeah. Bye, everyone," he said, picking up a large duffel bag. Isabelle tied her scarf tighter, and they set off to meet the Weasleys in Hogsmeade.

-----

Molly Weasley nervously straightened the kitchen, pausing to stir a large pot of stew. After traveling all morning, the children, the boys especially, would be starving. She walked to the living room, pausing to look at her reflection in the hall mirror, smoothing out her apron over her shabby robes. 

No matter how many times she tried to convince herself that Isabelle Evans was just a normal woman, the idea of the former countess in her home intimidated her. Although she knew that Isabelle had lived a tough life, all Molly could think of was how members of the Potter and Black households, the two richest, most influential wizarding families in the English Isles raised her. Unlike Harry, she grew up used to an incredibly affluent standard of living. The Burrow was a shack even compared to Isabelle's modest flat in Richmond.

And what would Charlie's new fiancée think of her in-laws? Charlie wrote once that Fleur Delacour treated Isabelle like an older sister, and the two were incredibly close. Would she be able to relate to her future daughter-in-law? A loud knock at the door interrupted her thoughts. Ready or not, she was about to find out.

Loud voices filled the entryway, spilling into the living room. Dropping their duffel bags on the living room floor, the Weasley boys hugged their mother hello and sprawled on the furniture. Ginny and Harry walked in together, making Molly raise an eyebrow. Before she had time to think about the possibility of a relationship between them, Charlie led two tall, beautiful blonde women through the door.

"Mum, this is Isabelle Evans, Harry's aunt," he said.

"Nice to meet you, Mrs. Weasley," she drawled in a soft, flowing Southern accent.

"Nice to meet you, too, Ms. Evans. Please call me Molly."

"And I'm Isabelle." The two women exchanged hesitant, but genuine smiles.

"And this," Charlie continued proudly, "is Fleur. Fleur, this is my mum."

"Nice to finally meet you. Charlie's told me so much about you," Fleur said in her fading French accent, reaching out to give Molly a quick hug.

"I hate to interrupt this fine family moment, but I'm starving. Is there any food around this place?" Fred called out loudly, clutching his stomach. Everyone laughed at the look of mock pain on his face.

"There's stew in the kitchen," his mother replied. A herd of feet thundered to the kitchen, followed at a safe distance by the adults.

Isabelle walked into the large, comfortably lived-in kitchen where Fred, George and Ron were already sitting at the table with large bowls of stew. There was something about it that smelled strangely familiar, but she couldn't quite put her finger on it until she saw Harry ladling out his own bowl.

"Is that a traditional Irish stew?" she inquired curiously. Molly nodded, and Isabelle's face lit up. "My mum used to cook it when I was a little girl. And when she got too sick to make it, my nanny Maria would make it for us. I haven't had a decent bowl of stew since I was six."

"My mum didn't make it?" Harry asked with his mouth full.

"Lily, God rest her soul, was a lousy cook. Absolutely terrible," she replied with pursed lips. "Your Aunt Gina was worse. Thank goodness for take-out food and a house-elf. Otherwise, we would have starved. You kids don't realize how lucky you are."

What a true statement that is, Isabelle thought, looking around the room. Sirius was right; this is truly the richest family in the world because they have each other. As the conversation continued around her, she thought of her own family, and how most of them are gone. She suddenly felt the urge to visit them, to reconnect with old memories. Fleur seemed to be fitting in nicely, so there was really no need for her to stay.

"Well," she began, looking at her watch, "I really should be going. It was nice meeting you, Molly. See y'all after the New Year."

After giving many goodbye hugs, Isabelle disapperated with a pop and apperated at the cemetery gate in Hogsmeade. Taking a deep breath, she walked to the family plot.

-----

Across town, Sirius and Hermione boarded the Hogwarts Express. Since most of the students took the morning departure time, they had no problem finding an empty compartment. Neither of them was a morning person, so they chose to sleep late and take a long lunch before traveling to the Grangers' house. 

The train left the platform, and Hermione quickly settled down with a book. Sirius looked out the window, thoughts racing through his head, mostly of Isabelle. From the day he met her, she was like a poison that wouldn't get out of his system. Other than his daughter, and her mother, there was no one else he loved more than Isabelle. His love for her tormented him, especially when he thought of Sara. He knew that he had to choose one woman or the other, even if she didn't choose to be with him. After a few minutes of trying to make sense of his love life, he gave up.

"What are you reading?"

"_Sense and Sensibility_," Hermione replied. "I went through all the books Isabelle gave me, and I picked this one first because Mum and Aunt Lily wrote in it."

"Really? Can I see it?" She passed him the book. He opened it, and sure enough, Regina's broad, untidy scrawl spread over the page, interrupted occasionally by Lily's small, neat handwriting.

"Read it. It's pretty funny. They're supposed to be writing an inscription to Isabelle, but end up having an argument about the plot of the book."

"Sounds about right. They didn't agree on anything, which is why they were such good friends," Sirius mused. He tried to focus his eyes on the page, but he couldn't read the words. "Ok. If you tell Isabelle that I have to wear reading glasses, I swear that I'll terrorize Ron about your – oh, how shall I put it – extracurricular activities over the holiday."

"H-how did you know about that?" Hermione stuttered.

"What, do you think I'm stupid?" He raised an eyebrow, put his glasses on and began to read.

_  
Happy fourteenth birthday to our little Margaret Dashwood. We hope you enjoy this book as much as we did. Love, Lily P.S. Gina'll tell you that Elinor's boring, but don't listen to her. She likes fickle, flighty Marianne who doesn't know a decent man when she sees him. _

_Elinor is boring! She's a dull prude who just sits around pining for the equally uninteresting Edward, just calmly accepting that nasty Lucy's going to marry her man. At least Marianne has real feelings, and seeks out love instead of just waiting around for Mr. Right to enter her parlour door. _

_Real feelings? As in nearly getting yourself killed over some guy who says he loves you but just leaves you after a torrid love affair where you damage the family reputation? _

_She just wanted adventure, that's all. What's wrong with that? A body can't live in the back of beyond her whole life. And, who cares about the family reputation? Love knows no etiquette or protocol; it has a mind of its own and sometimes you just fall for the completely wrong person. Just because you can't be together doesn't mean that the love wasn't real. _

_I'm not debating that. All I'm saying is that Elinor kept the family together and took care of things while Marianne was off chasing Mr. Wrong. She's reliable. Marianne ended up with a reliable man. So there. Dependable wins. _

_But, he was a dependable man who accepted Marianne's quirkiness, and didn't try to change her. He accepted her just the way she was, wounded heart and all. I think that, not his steadfast character, won her over. _

_True. No one short of a saint could've put up with her crap. _

_And no one who enjoys being conscious could've stayed around Elinor more than five minutes without taking a trip to dreamland. _

_But, they did love each other…just like how I love you even though you're obviously a bad judge of character… _

_And I love you even though you appreciate the dullness in life… _

_So, with that, little sister, happy reading! At least we've given you food for thought. Love ya, your big sis _

_And Lily's food is porridge. Mine is chocolate cake. Bon appetit! Love, Regina _

Sirius smiled wryly as he closed the book, wondering if they were arguing about themselves or the novel. He looked up at Hermione, who had an anguished look on her face. 

"What's the matter?"

"I killed my mother. It's my entire fault that she died. If I had never been born, then she would still be here." Her voice became louder and more pained. "And, if Mum hadn't died, then they wouldn't have sent you to prison, because no one would've believed that you were a Death Eater. Maybe no one would've died, and Harry would still have parents. And, you would still have her."

He stared at her in disbelief, blinking. "You didn't kill anyone, especially not your mother. I'm sorry; I guess I should've talked to you about all this earlier. How long have you felt this way?"

"Ever since July," she admitted.

"And you didn't say anything because you think that I blame you somehow for your mother's death?" She nodded quickly. "I promise you that I don't. When you were born, I swore that I wouldn't become bitter like my father did. Both of us lost her."

Sirius thought for a minute, trying to decide what to tell her. "It's true that Regina died shortly after you were born, but it wasn't childbirth alone that killed her. A long time ago, your mum went to New York City and fell into a rough crowd. One night at a party, some idiot talked her into experimenting with various illegal substances, I'm not even sure what, or how much. Well, some bacteria was on the paraphernalia the bloody git gave her. The bacteria caused her to catch infective endocarditis, which is a virus that attacks the heart. It almost killed her, but the doctors told her that she made a full recovery."

"Was she still sick with the infective endo-whatever it is?"

"Endocarditis. Very. She would have minor relapses, but she never told any of us about it. Ashamed of what she had done, I guess. Right before we got married, the doctors put her on a permanent regimen of antibiotics. She told me they were vitamins. A couple of years later, she became pregnant with you. Her doctor told her that her history of heart disease wouldn't affect her ability to have children, and she believed him." He sighed heavily. "What no doctor knew at that time was that Regina was born with a heart murmur, so she had a weak heart even before the virus. No one knows why, but she went into premature labor, so the doctor decided to deliver you by C-section to minimize the strain on her heart."

"What happened then?" Hermione asked quietly.

"She caught a staph infection from the stitches. Her body was just too weak to fight it; her heart was worn out. It happened so quickly. There was nothing we could do except watch her fade away. Anyway, you didn't have anything to do with her getting sick in the first place." He took a deep breath. "What I'm about to tell you, you're are not to tell anyone, ok?"

"Ok."

"Nearly everyone in the crowd Regina was with, including that complete waste of a human being she fell for, became Death Eaters, and there were rumors that she was associated with the Dark Lord. Any evidence to support that idea was destroyed, but people still talked. So, when I married her, the Ministry started an internal audit to investigate me. Of course they never found anything, but my association to her was enough to make some Ministry officials think that I could kill off my own family. People wanted someone to blame, and I was an easy target. You never being born wouldn't have changed any of that, either."

"How'd you find out Mum was sick if she never told anyone about it?"

"Deathbed confessional. Actually, she didn't tell me. Isabelle did. When the doctor said that she had a staph infection, she knew it was the end, and asked to talk to Isabelle. That's when we called her home from Hogwarts. I don't know everything Regina told her, or why she asked for her, even. She made her promise not to tell anyone but me what happened, because she didn't want you to grow up ashamed of your own mother."

"But, she just made a mistake. Everyone makes mistakes. It's not her fault she got sick."

"It's not yours, either. It's _his_ fault," Sirius spat. "He had no business doing what he did to her."

"Who is he?"

"No one worth mentioning." They sat in silence for a minute.

"When did you get over my mother?" Hermione asked quietly.

"Over her? What do you mean?"

"Well, you date and stuff. You couldn't do that if you still loved Mum, right?"

"Wrong. I'll never stop loving her as long as I live. My very first memory is of she, James and I throwing toys at each other. You just can't get over losing someone after knowing her for twenty-five years; well, I can't, anyway. Part of me will always love her, but there's no use being stuck in the past. Time keeps going, whether you're ready to move on or not. One day, you realize that your little girl is a grown woman, and your baby is almost grown herself. And, that both of you got along just fine on your own."

"That doesn't mean that we don't need you. At least I know that you'll rearrange the anatomy of any loser that breaks my heart. Speaking of, how did you know about Ron and I?"

A wicked grin spread over his face. "I didn't. You just told me."

"What?" Her jaw dropped.

"Lucky guess. Don't you think you're playing with fire? When the cat's away, and all that?"

"You have a lot of room to talk," she muttered under her breath.

"I have excellent hearing. Care to explain yourself?" Sirius said with a raised eyebrow.

"No, sir," she said archly, knowing it was to her advantage not to say what she knew. "I just have a question, that's all."

"What?"

"Why is it that you never talk about Mum when Sara's around?"

"Because she'd be uncomfortable. You know that."

"Is Isabelle uncomfortable talking about my mother?"

"What kind of question is that? Of course not."

"I was just wondering that's all." Hermione buried her head in her book, hoping that her father got the hint.

He did, loud and clear. Leaning his head against the back of the seat, Sirius closed his eyes, thinking. Life would be perfect if only Isabelle returned my feelings for her, he decided. But, she doesn't think of you that way, so give up and move on. Take your own advice before life passes you by completely, he kept telling himself as the train sped towards London.

-----

The sun was just beginning to set when Sirius opened the front door of the house, making everything eerily dark. Especially since Isabelle was supposed to be home from the Weasleys' hours ago. He had hoped that she would be home. After spending a somewhat awkward afternoon at the Grangers' house, he really needed someone to talk to. 

He bumped his way into the living room, tripping over various presents that hadn't made their way upstairs, and lit the lamps. One thing that Sirius insisted on was that no electric hook-ups were allowed at the house. He wasn't prejudiced against Muggle ways of living; he just preferred to raise his family in the old ways. Isabelle laughed and called him old-fashioned, but ended up charming her hair dryer to work without electricity.

The fire had gone out long ago because Dobby had the day off, making the room incredibly chilly. Rubbing his hands together for warmth and to keep them from cramping, he quickly lit a roaring fire in the fireplace. Guessing that Isabelle was still at the Weasleys', he threw some powder into the fire and dropped in on their dinner. Harry informed him that she left shortly after noon. It was now five-thirty, and Sirius was concerned. It wasn't her style to disappear.

He threw on his cloak, and wandered through Hogsmeade, stopping at her favorite shops. After checking the stores and pubs twice, he decided to go back home. Halfway through town, he passed the cemetery gate. He doubted that she would go there, but it wouldn't hurt to look. Right as he reached the family plot, he heard a familiar voice.

The setting sun highlighted Isabelle's blonde hair, turning it brilliant shades of yellow, red and orange. Usually she kept her hair up, but she took it down to keep her head warm in the cold. Sirius paused for a minute, listening. She was chatting away to the headstones, pausing her monologue occasionally to wipe away a stray tear. He quietly walked up to where she was sitting and sat down beside her.

"Hello, Sirius. How are the Grangers?" she asked without looking at him.

"They're fine. Have you been here all afternoon?"

"Yes. You're right about the Weasleys. They're lovely," she chattered through blue lips.

"I know. Why don't we go home? You're freezing."

"I miss Lily," she replied, as if she didn't even hear him. "I wish she were here, because she'd know what to do to make everything better. She always did."

Sirius sighed. It seemed like no matter where he went, the past just kept coming up. And he, for one, was sick of reliving old, painful memories. Counting on the element of surprise, he reached over, grabbed her by the waist, and picked her up.

"What are you doing?" she screeched.

"Interrupting your pity party. I came here looking for a dinner date, and I'm not taking no for an answer."

Her jaw dropped. "What?"

"You heard me. Anywhere you want to go. My treat. I owe you for my little Christmas oversight, anyway." She looked at him skeptically, but he saw a small smile flicker. "Come on, how many chances do we have to do anything without the children?"

"Anywhere I want to go?"

"Anywhere."

She thought for a minute, and smiled. "The Cheese Shop in Williamsburg. It's lunch time there, though."

"That doesn't matter to me. Williamsburg, it is, as long as I can have one of those Death by Chocolate things."

"I think that can be arranged."

"Let's get out of here, then. Aren't you cold?"

"Very," Isabelle admitted. With a gallant smile, Sirius took off his cloak and put it around her shoulders.

"Oooh, since when did you become a gentleman?" she teased.

"Since you became a lady," he replied, winking at her.

Their eyes met, and they gave each other a shy smile before hurrying out of the cemetery.


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter 16**

"Sirius, please make sure that you can pass for a Muggle," Isabelle called through the bathroom. He had a nasty habit of wearing odd clothing combinations to try and get funny stares from Muggles. Once, he and James decided to wear sandals, plaid golf pants they stole from their fathers' wardrobes, butterfly collar shirts and baseball caps for a trip to Piccadilly Circus in London, much to Lily's humiliation. Isabelle was thankful she missed that particular outing.

"Well, this is the best I could do since my favorite polyester leisure suit got blown up," he said, walking into her bedroom wearing chinos and a grey sweater. "Will this do?"

She stared for a minute, deciding that wizard's robes just didn't do him justice. He barely looked like he could be in his early thirties, let alone about to turn forty-one in a month and a half. Get a hold of yourself, she scolded herself firmly.

"Surprisingly, I believe you're getting a sense of style in your old age," she retorted. "Or did you just order one of everything from Hermione's J. Crew catalogue?"

"Cute," he grumbled, but didn't deny it. "Ready yet?"

"I was waiting on you," she said, exasperated.

"Sure you were," he drawled, making fun of her Southern accent. She scowled, and disapperated. Laughing, he quickly followed suit.

Sirius apperated in a narrow alleyway between two large brick buildings. He looked around, and didn't see Isabelle. Or anyone else, for that matter. Cursing himself for traveling to the wrong location, he moodily walked to the end of the alleyway to try to figure out where he was.

"Thought you'd never get here," Isabelle smirked, leaning against one of the buildings, arms crossed.

"You didn't exactly make finding the place, or you, easy."

"Yeah, well that's what you get for being a stupid git. The Cheese Shop is this way," she pointed, leading Sirius through Colonial Williamsburg.

Located in the heart of the town, Williamsburg's colonial district consists of an assortment of shops, taverns, and historic buildings. Everything branches off Duke of Gloucester Street, which is a colonial mile, with the College of William and Mary's Wren Building at one end, and the Colonial Capitol at the other. The Cheese Shop is on the Wren Building end of DOG Street, as the townies call it. Isabelle easily wound through the clusters of shops in Merchant's Square, walking into the tiny delicatessen.

People crammed themselves from one end of the store to the other; shopping for deli products, fine wines, and touristy souvenirs. Others crowded the food counter, waiting for their lunch ticket to be called.

"So, what's good here?" Sirius asked, squinting at the menu. The chalkboard was far enough away that he should've been able to read it, but he couldn't see a word. The notion that he might need bifocals irritated him.

"Everything," Isabelle gushed, fighting her way to the counter. "Do you mind if I order for you?"

"Not at all," he replied, relieved.

Sirius looked around the shop as Isabelle rattled off the order, only catching pieces of what she was saying. Something about bread ends and a house. She walked up to him a couple of minutes later with large brown bag and two drinks in her arms.

"Since it's such a pretty day, I thought we might eat at the Sunken Garden," she explained.

Sirius nodded, taking the bag out of her hands; wherever she wanted to go was fine with him. They walked through Merchant's Square, crossed Richmond Road at what Isabelle called "Confusion Corner", and around the Wren Building. Suddenly, she stopped, clutching Sirius' arm.

"Look, a wedding," she whispered excitedly, discreetly pointing to a bridal party assembled on the portico for photos. "Phillip and I used to watch the weddings all of the time."

"Phillip?"

"Yeah, we would look at the bride and groom and try to figure out if they were going to stay together or not." She laughed. "It was cheap entertainment. We didn't have two pots to pee in back then."

Sirius wrinkled his nose at the colloquialism, and at the mention of Isabelle's ex-boyfriend. She didn't notice, and continued talking as they walked down a steep brick staircase to the large sunken field.

"Those were crazy times, with me in undergrad and him in law school. I think every square inch of that closet we called an apartment was filled with a book of some sort," she reminisced. "We were so broke. I worked double shifts in the chemistry lab in-between class and ballet, and he had two jobs. Quite a jolt from my Hogwarts days."

"How long did you live with him?" Sirius asked, as casually as possible. And why didn't she marry him, he wondered.

"From the end of freshman year until I graduated, so three years. I lived through two years of law school, three bar exams, and the establishment of his firm. Phillip wanted to open a firm that dealt with conflict of laws issues between the Muggle and wizarding system. Everyone told him that there wasn't a market for it, and wouldn't help him out. For that first year, it was just he and I, living on a dream and a prayer. Well, he proved the critics wrong, for sure. Last time I checked, Spence, Markham and Powers has twelve offices around the world," Isabelle said proudly.

His curiosity got the better of him. "Why didn't you marry Phillip when he asked?"

"He thought the firm was our dream, but it wasn't. It was his dream, and I was thrilled when it came true." Isabelle sighed. "Right around the time I graduated, Phillip took two partners, and hired personnel to replace me. That's when he proposed. I couldn't see myself as Mrs. Phillip Spence, Quiddich mom to those five kids Trelawney said that I'd raise. I dedicated three years of my life to his dream, and I was just ready to chase my own rainbows."

"What are your dreams, Belle?"

"They've already come true. Most of them, anyway. Showing you my second home. Watching Harry play Quiddich and ignoring those looks Hermione gets on her face when she thinks you're stupid. Teasing Remus about spending too much time at the pub. Teaching. I love kids; that's what I went to college for, actually."

Sirius took a bite out of his sandwich, and chewed it thoughtfully. "Why don't you remarry and have those five kids, then?"

"One, I don't exactly see guys lining up to marry me. And secondly, the doctors say that I can't have any more children, even if I wanted to. Shows what a fraud Trelawney is," she said, rolling her eyes. "Here, try this. It's bread ends and house."

"What's house?"

"House dressing," she huffed. "Also called ranch dressing."

"Not bad," he said, with his mouth full.

"Not bad? I lived off this stuff. Come on, it's time for the tour." Isabelle stood up, and brushed the crumbs off her jeans.

She showed off the campus, describing various traditions at the college. On the way from the historic campus to the new portion, where most of Isabelle's classes were located, Sirius interrupted her.

"Is that the famous Crim Dell bridge?" he asked with a raised eyebrow.

"I see you read my letters," she replied, blushing slightly.

"Every word. Aren't you going to show it to me?"

"Alright," she gave in, leading him to the large pond and up the steep bridge.

"So, how many guys did you kiss here?" Sirius asked, only partially teasing. According to tradition, if two people kissed on the bridge, they were supposed to marry.

"None. I'm a very superstitious witch. Besides, I like to keep my options open," she said archly.

"Do you now?"

Before he lost his nerve, he leaned over and kissed her. Just when he thought he had a chance for a nice, long snog session, Isabelle pushed him over the railing and into the murky water below. She laughed hysterically as he stood up in the waist-high water, livid and sputtering.

"What did you do that for?" he grumbled, brushing wet hair out of his eyes.

"I told you I like to keep my options open. If you remember correctly, pushing the guy into the water breaks that whole getting married charm. Besides, you look so cute swimming in the Crim Nasty."

Fuming, Sirius sloshed his way back to the shore and charmed himself dry. In less than twenty-four hours, she bruised his ego twice. What an amazing woman, he thought. Besides, he liked a good challenge, anyway. Or was just a glutton for punishment.

Isabelle yawned, carefully walking down the steep bridge. It had been an incredibly long day, and she was ready to relax. "Hey, Sirius?"

"Yes?" he snapped.

"I don't know about you, but I'm getting tired. So, why don't we spend the night at Brittany's house? The whole group has wanted to meet you for a while now, and since we're in town, why not?"

"Sure," he replied, still a little irritated.

He followed Isabelle through New Campus, across Jamestown Road and onto a small side street. She walked to the door of an impressive brick house, and rang the doorbell. A small, dark haired girl of about seven answered the door.

"Auntie Isabelle," the little girl screamed, throwing open the screen door and hugging Isabelle tightly.

"Merry Christmas a day late, M. J. Was Santa good to you?" she asked.

"Oh, yes," M. J. said seriously. "I even got a new chemistry set so that when Uncle Severus comes, he can show me how to make potions. I want to know how to make Stephen disappear."

Isabelle hid a smile. "I'm afraid that there's no potion that would make Stephen disappear. Besides, that's not very nice."

"He's not very nice."

"But, he's still your brother. M. J., this is my friend, Sirius Black."

"Nice to meet you. My name is Mary Jane Parker, just like in Spider Man," she said proudly, extending her hand. "But, you can call me M. J."

"Nice to meet you, too," Sirius said, making a mental note to ask Isabelle what Spider Man was.

"Where's your mother?" Isabelle asked.

"Inside. Come on." M. J. pulled her by the arm, dragging her inside. "Mama! Auntie Isabelle's here with a strange man."

"Aunt Is-belle," shrieked a tiny voice from the back of the house. Two tiny arms wrapped themselves around her legs, nearly tripping her. She picked up the toddler, and turned around.

"Sirius, this little one is Rose, my namesake. She's three and a half. Stephen just turned five, and I'm not quite sure where he is." Her voice trailed off.

"M. J., you know you're not supposed to tell stories," a stern voice called from the kitchen. Isabelle walked in carrying Rose, causing Brittany to drop her spatula in the spaghetti sauce she was stirring.

"Hey, Brit. Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas, yourself!"

The two women hugged each other excitedly, chatting in high-pitched voices. Sirius stood behind Isabelle, watching her in amusement. No one noticed a pair of startling blue eyes pop up from behind the bench tucked underneath the kitchen table. A wild-eyed boy rushed out from the table, whooping Indian chants. Swinging a mock tomahawk, he stopped in front of the adults.

"I'm Powhatan, the greatest warrior there's ever been. And, all of you are now my prisoners," he said with great importance.

"Stephen, are you supposed to kidnap prisoners in the house?" Brittany asked patiently.

"No, ma'am," he replied. His Indian headdress made a loud swishing noise as he shook his head from side to side.

"Why don't you run next door and tell your Aunt Sarah Lindsay that Aunt Isabelle's here," she said in a tone of voice that prevented any argument.

"Yes, ma'am." He turned, and ran out the front door.

He returned a few minutes later, with a petite blonde woman and two little girls in tow. The girls immediately rushed over to hug Isabelle. Stephen mumbled something about girls being sissies, and thundered upstairs.

"Hi. I'm Carrie and this is my sister Abbie. Who are you?" she asked Sirius, pulling on his pants leg.

"I'm your Aunt Isabelle's friend Sirius," he told her.

"Oh. Do you know my Uncle Severus?"

"Yes, I do." And, I wish I didn't, he thought wistfully.

"Is he coming for a visit, too?"

"Not this time, Carrie," Isabelle jumped in.

"Why not?" M. J. whined, tears filling her brown eyes.

"Just because," Brittany replied. "Why don't you girls go upstairs and play?"

"Finally, a moment of quiet," Sarah Lindsay breathed, as the girls stomped upstairs to the playroom.

"Where are Jake and Thomas?" Isabelle inquired.

"Jake and my darling brothers are off on one of their male bonding hunting expeditions," Brittany said, rolling her eyes. "So, what brings y'all to this neck of the woods?"

"Well, we dropped the kids off for the holidays, and I wanted to show Sirius my second home," Isabelle explained.

"You have a daughter who is almost sixteen, right?" Sarah Lindsay asked Sirius.

"Yes, Hermione will be sixteen in May." He was becoming increasingly uncomfortable, and wished for some excuse to disappear into a guest room. Fortunately, the opportunity presented itself quickly, and he stretched out on the foreign bed, thinking.

-----

Downstairs, Isabelle, Brittany and Sarah Lindsay stretched out in the family room with tall glasses of iced tea and giant bowls of double chocolate ice cream. 

"So, that's the famous Sirius Black," Sarah Lindsay mumbled through a mouthful of ice cream.

"Yep."

"Nice to finally meet the reason you wouldn't marry my brother," Brittany said snidely.

Isabelle turned three shades of red. "What do you mean?"

"Exactly what I said. Deny that you're desperately in love with Sirius Black. I dare you to."

"I can't, Brittany."

She smiled. "Thought not. Good Lord, he's one good looking man."

"Especially for his age and the whole prison thing. And that accent – wow," Sarah Lindsay added.

"And a single dad is always sexy," Brittany mused.

"Definitely."

"Enough! Y'all are terrible to me," Isabelle pleaded.

"Poor baby," Sarah Lindsay teased.

"That's it. I'm going upstairs to tuck in M. J. She wants me to sing from the Evita soundtrack tonight." Isabelle quickly escaped up the stairs.

-----

Sirius padded into the hallway, trying to remember if the bathroom was the second or third door on the right. He was completely lost in his own thoughts when Isabelle gave him a quick tour of the house earlier. Being here, around her friends, bothered him. They were a living reminder of the consequences of his mistakes and failures. She knew them because he couldn't protect her. 

A familiar alto voice drifted into the hallway as he passed a partially closed door. He peered around the doorframe. Isabelle sat singing to M. J., who was rapidly falling asleep. The little girl's eyes opened partially when she finished the song.

"Just one more song, Auntie Isabelle? Please?" she yawned.

"One more. I'll sing 'Another Suitcase in Another Hall', ok?"

M. J. nodded groggily as Isabelle began the song.

_  
I don't expect my love affairs to last for long, never fool myself that my dreams will come true.   
Being used to trouble I anticipated it, but all the same I hate it, wouldn't you?   
So what happens now? Where am I going to?   
  
Time and time again I've said that I don't care, that I'm immune to gloom, that I'm hard through and through.   
But, every time it matters, all my words desert me, so anyone can hurt me – and they do. So what happens now?_

Sirius quickly passed by the room before she saw him. When he left the bathroom a few minutes later, which happened to be the third door on the right after all, Isabelle was still singing. The emotion in her voice stopped him in his tracks, and he leaned closer to hear her clearly.

_Where do we go from here?  
This isn't where we intended to be.  
We had it all – you believed in me, I believed in you.  
Certainties disappear  
What do we do for our dream to survive?  
How do we keep all our passions alive as we used to do?  
  
Deep in my heart I'm concealing things that I'm longing to say  
Scared to confess what I'm feeling  
Frightened you'll slip away  
You must love me  
You must love me  
  
Why are you at my side?  
How can I be any use to you now?  
Give me a chance and I'll let you see how  
Nothing has changed.  
  
Deep in my heart I'm concealing things that I'm longing to say  
Scared to confess what I'm feeling  
Frightened you'll slip away  
You must love me_

"You must love—oh!" Isabelle ran right into Sirius as she rounded the doorway. He grabbed her by the waist to prevent her from falling, but didn't let go when she righted herself.

"Sorry," he said sheepishly. "I heard you singing, and couldn't resist eavesdropping."

"That's alright."

"Isabelle, there is, rather, I would like to talk to you about something."

"What about?" She tilted her face upward, and her green eyes stared straight into his.

"About us – you and me. Belle," he began, but was interrupted by the sound of footsteps on the staircase. He quickly let go of her, and took a step back. "It can wait until we get home."

"Are you sure?" She was absolutely dying to know what he was about to say.

"Positive," he said, looking over Isabelle's head at a very curious Brittany. "Good night, Isabelle."

"Good night," she called after him, puzzled and slightly hurt.

-----

Isabelle rolled over and looked at the alarm clock on the nightstand. It read nine o'clock. She groaned, and sat up, rubbing her eyes. Going back to sleep now is impossible, she decided, getting out of bed and heading downstairs to rustle up some breakfast. She opened the cabinet door, removed a juice glass, and set it down on the countertop. 

"Good morning, sleeping beauty."

Individual follicles of hair rose on Isabelle's neck as she turned around slowly. Severus Snape sat at the kitchen table, casually sipping a cup of tea. How could he know that I'm here, she wondered.

"Good morning. What brings you here?" she asked through narrowed eyes.

"A holiday visit to my godchildren. Imagine my surprise when my lovely goddaughter Mary Jane owls me that her Auntie Isabelle is visiting with a strange man. Pray tell, does the strange man have a name?"

"Don't play games with me, Severus. You know good and well Sirius is here. Why else would you have bothered to grace me with your presence?"

"Sarcasm does not become you, my dear. What, am I ruining your fun?" he sneered at the look on her face.

"Sod off," she fumed. If Rose hadn't walked into the room at that exact moment, Isabelle would have delighted in smacking the triumphant smirk off his face.

"Hi, Uncle Sev-us," she said, running to him.

"Hi yourself, Rose. What do you have in your hand?" he asked her.

"My broomstick. Santa brought it to me for Christmas." She held it out proudly.

Isabelle tuned out the conversation and returned to pouring her orange juice, wishing it was something far stronger. She crossed the room, nearly running over M. J., who was chattering excitedly with Severus.

"And, then I combined the ginger root with the confetti, but it didn't turn out quite right," M. J. told him, showing him an odd green goo.

"You're supposed to put in the confetti first," he patiently explained.

"Ohhh." She mixed together the potion again. "There. Hair gel."

"Very good," Severus said, hiding a smile.

Isabelle looked up and saw Sirius standing in the doorway, surveying the scene with a look of surprise and mild distaste on his face. She stood up quickly, and walked out with him into the hallway.

"I'm so sorry. I had no idea he would show up here," Isabelle apologized.

"No, it's alright. He clearly belongs here," he replied quietly.

"Sirius--"

"Belle, don't argue with me." He clenched his jaw, and looked away, pain reflecting in his eyes. "I have business in London, and I really should get it over with before the holidays are over."

"What business? I administer your finances," she said through narrowed eyes.

"Personal business. Please give my respects to your friends."

"Please don't--" she began. Sirius disapperated with a pop. "leave."

Isabelle's face fell as she walked back into the kitchen alone. Severus looked up, and she saw a hint of a triumphant gleam in his eyes.

"Where did your traveling companion go?" he asked snidely.

"I wanted him to meet my friends, to get an idea of what my life was like when he was in prison. It wasn't fair to chase him off like that. He went to London." She threw herself in a kitchen chair and buried her head in her arms. Severus put a hand on her arm.

"I didn't force him to do anything. He left of his own free will."

"You didn't give him much choice," she murmured through her arms.

"True enough. But, Isabelle, have I ever done anything that wasn't in your best interests?" She looked up and shook her head no. "I just want to have a talk with you before you get in over your head. Sometimes an outside perspective is helpful, and makes you see things you wouldn't have otherwise."

"What I see is that your hatred for Sirius outweighs the happiness I could have with him."

"Then you're not seeing the complete picture. Give me a half hour of your time; that's all I ask."

She nodded curtly in agreement as the rest of the family piled downstairs for brunch. It truly was wonderful to be back home, she decided. Here, she could relax, didn't have to worry about making a good impression on teenagers. And it was awfully nice to see the kinder side of Severus. The children brought out the best in him.

After brunch, Severus and Isabelle excused themselves to take a walk in Colonial Williamsburg. They walked silently to Duke of Gloucester Street, enjoying the beautiful winter day. A gentle breeze gave the air a wintry feel, but the weather was still warm enough to be comfortable outside without a heavy coat.

Severus broke the silence as they reached Merchant's Square. "What were you thinking, Isabelle?"

"That Sirius is a big part of my life, and I wanted to share him with my other family. Is that so difficult to comprehend?"

He ignored her question. "You're shamelessly throwing yourself at him. Only a fool could miss your intentions."

"I suppose Sirius is a fool, then," Isabelle said softly.

"You have a firm grasp of the obvious. Luckily for you, he's oblivious to your little crush."

"Lucky?" she spat.

"Yes, lucky. Isabelle, this isn't just about you and him. It's about your whole family, especially the children." Severus paused and looked at her to make sure he had her attention before continuing. "What happens if you have a fling with him? It's everything you ever wanted it to be, but like all of your relationships, it ends in an ugly breakup."

"Not all of my breakups are ugly. Phillip and I are still close."

"If I remember correctly, you only refused to marry him. And you continued to be 'close', as you so quaintly term it, until you married Remizov."

"True."

"So, you hook up and break up. Naturally, you can't stand to live near each other, so one of you moves out. Sirius has custody of both children, and can refuse you visitation. To see the children you've devoted your entire adult life to protecting, you sue him. He's Sirius Black, you're Isabelle Evans, and you're fighting for the custody of the two most famous children in the wizarding world. It would be a media circus."

"But, it wouldn't come to that. We always agree on what's in the best interests of the children."

He smiled. This was going even better than he hoped. "Fighting, in public or private, is not in the best interests of the children, is it? They've been to hell and back. We're talking about your sister's baby, who got stuck with abusive Petunia, only to discover that he had living family he had never even heard of. And, what about Hermione, the toddler who called you Mummy?"

"Yes, she was pretty stubborn about it, too. Whenever I told her Mummy was in heaven and I'm Isabelle, she pitched a hysterical fit," Isabelle recollected with a small smile. Severus decided it was time to use his best argument.

"I recall a scared, hurt sixteen-year-old girl whose life was turned upside down because of the actions of other people. Would you want them to go through more pain because you couldn't control your libido?"

"Of course not." She sighed. "You're absolutely right, Severus. Wanting to be with Sirius is selfish on my part. I just need to distance myself from him and focus on what's best for the children."

They crossed Jamestown Road on the way back to Brittany's house, both lost in thought. Suddenly, Isabelle got an eerie feeling that something was wrong. Very wrong. She broke into a run, dashed through the street, and stopped suddenly in front of the house. Severus caught up with her, wondering what possessed her to take off like that. The reason was clearly illuminated on the door.


	17. Chapter 17

**Chapter 17**

Isabelle's breath caught in her throat as she stood at the end of the driveway with her hands on her knees, catching her breath. She would need her wits for whatever she found in the house. Severus put his hand on her back, trying to compose himself, as well.

"Is this a nightmare?" Isabelle asked, in a haze. She turned around. "Why is the Dark Mark on the front door?"

"You know why," Severus said in a tight voice. "Who is the question. Voldemort would not bother himself to attack the Parkers or Spences."

"Sergei," she said softly. "He knows about Phillip, and is angry about the divorce. This is something he would plan."

"How would he know that you are here?"

"I don't know."

"Let's go, Isabelle. We need to find out what we're dealing with here. Remember your wand."

"No, Severus," she said firmly. "Sergei might still be in there, and he doesn't know that you and I know each other. He's framing me for the murders of my friends; I'm sure of it. It's so unoriginal, taking a page out of Peter Pettigrew's book. I would've thought him more clever than that."

"I'm going," he roared.

"Use your head! You can't blow your cover; it would compromise us all. This is something I must face alone. Go to Stacey's flat and I'll send word as soon as I can."

"I don't think this is a good idea, but you're right. Isabelle, be careful," he said in a husky voice. She took out her wand, and transfigured it into a Rolex watch.

"Here, wear this," she said, putting the watch on his wrist. "If I'm right, I won't need it anyway. Severus, if something happens to me, I just wanted to say thank you for everything you've ever done for me. I love you."

She hugged Severus tightly, wondering if this would be the last time she ever saw him. He disapperated, leaving Isabelle alone, staring at the ominous Dark Mark on the door. Taking a deep breath, she walked up the driveway, and opened the front door.

The house was in complete disarray. Isabelle had to move the coat tree from where it had fallen so that she could walk through the door. The houseplants that belonged on the entryway table lay strewn on the carpet, dirt covering the floor. She gulped. The house was quiet – too quiet.

She cautiously walked into the kitchen, and gasped. Gathering up her courage, she moved through the dining room and into the family room. It appeared that the attack began in the kitchen, where Thomas and Brittany became the first victims. From there, the attackers spread throughout the first floor, killing Jake in the family room. But, where were Sarah Lindsay and the children?

Desperately hoping that no one was upstairs, she began climbing the staircase. Her knees buckled at the landing. Sarah Lindsay was sprawled on the hall floor in front of Rose's bedroom. Isabelle's head spun. She left all of her friends an hour ago, alive and safe. The whole situation was surreal. Only her wish that the children survived the attack somehow propelled her to step over Sarah Lindsay's body and into the bedroom.

She leaned against the doorjamb, tightly closing her eyes. As long as she lived, she would never forget the image of the lifeless forms of M. J., Carrie and Rose laying together on the bed. They looked so peaceful and innocent. Something in Isabelle snapped.

"I know you're behind this, Sergei," she screamed at the top of her lungs. "It's me you want. Come face me, you coward."

Silence echoed throughout the house. "What? Too afraid to fight?" she goaded.

No one replied. After a minute, Isabelle realized that Stephen and Abbie were missing. Listlessly, she walked down the hallway and into Stephen's bedroom. They were on the floor, just as she feared. She collapsed on the floor, emitting an inhuman noise of pure agony and grief. A hand grasped her shoulder. She jumped, and turned around, doing a double take. It was Lucius, not Sergei, who stood in front of her.

"I'm so sorry, Isabelle. I didn't know about the attack until it was too late. Remizov came here for you. When you weren't here, he got angry and--"

"And killed the people I love for spite."

"Not all of them. I arrived before he got to these two little ones." He pointed to Stephen and Abbie. "They're only stunned. It was the best I could do. When Remizov finds out that I didn't kill them, heads will roll, I'm sure."

"Thank you, Lucius," she said woodenly. "The Office of Magical Affairs will be here soon. You can't risk being here."

"I'll stay with you until they arrive. You shouldn't be alone, Isabelle," he said softly, reaching out and tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear. She nodded, collapsing into his arms.

"How did you find out?" she asked.

"Don't worry about it," he replied.

A loud noise shattered the silence. "It's the OMA. You need to go. Please go to 2132A Washington Avenue and tell Severus what happened. It's in the West Village, and the lady who owns the flat is named Stacey."

Lucius wondered why she made this odd request, but agreed. He disapperated as footsteps sounded at the second floor landing. Three armed OMA policemen burst into Stephen's bedroom.

"Ma'am, what happened here?"

Isabelle looked up at the officer. "I went for a walk, and this is what I found when I returned. These children, Stephen Parker and Abigail Spence, are not dead. Please have someone from the Office of Social Affairs take the children out of the house before they wake up. Their next of kin is Phillip Spence."

"How do you know that they are alive?" the second officer asked.

"Because they are breathing, Officer--" she looked at his name tag, "Carlton."

"I'm afraid we're going to have to take you in for questioning, Countess Remizov," the first officer said in an overly official tone of voice. Dazed, Isabelle didn't bother to correct him as he handcuffed her and led her to his squad car.

Scenery rushed past Isabelle in a blur as the car raced towards the courthouse. The officer jumped out, opened the door and let her to the magistrate's courtroom. After obtaining a warrant charging her with capital murder, the officer led her to a tiny questioning room and read her rights to her. Somewhere in the shuffle, she indicated that her attorney was Phillip Spence, and that she wouldn't answer questions without his presence. Consequently, the OMA left her in the room alone with her thoughts while they figured out what to do with her. The entire office buzzed with the news. The Spence and Parker families were old, established wizarding families; their deaths shocked the entire wizarding community. Unlike other areas, Williamsburg had never experienced a Death Eater attack, and had no standing procedure when one occurred. In fact, the last high-profile Death Eater murders anywhere were the night of the attack on Potter family in England. Rumors began to circulate quickly about the eerie similarities between the two attacks and the people involved.

Phillip Spence grimly entered the courthouse to find Isabelle. It took quite a bit of convincing to get the OMA to allow him to speak to her privately before they began interrogating her. He quietly entered the room, closing the door behind him. Their eyes met, and they shared an expression of intense pain.

"What happened, Isabelle?" he asked, sitting down in a chair beside her, taking her hand in his. Tears streamed down her face as she explained the details of the grizzly scene.

"I didn't do it, Phillip," she concluded. "Please believe me."

He allowed himself a small smile. "Of course I believe you. We'll get through this together, I promise."

"Have you seen Stephen and Abbie?" she asked, changing the subject somewhat.

"Yes. I only hugged them a hundred times. They're upset and confused, but are doing as well as they can under the circumstances. How do you tell your niece and nephew that they are orphans and that their siblings are dead?" He rested his head in his hands.

"We all have survivor's guilt, Phillip. This is all my fault," she cried out in agony.

"No," he replied firmly. "You did not murder anyone. Remizov did, and we'll try to prove it."

A detective entered the room accompanied by his secretary to begin questioning Isabelle. Phillip gave her arm a reassuring squeeze. She marveled at his composure, and was thankful he sat beside her. The detective interrogated her for over two hours, raising his eyebrows over her lack of an alibi. She said that she had been walking through Colonial Williamsburg by herself, not wanting to put Snape anywhere near the scene of the crime. Finally, the detective left, and the officer who arrested her walked into the room.

"Ma'am, your attorney has posted bond for you, so you are free to go. Please abide by the conditions of your release," he told her.

Isabelle and Phillip walked to the front of the courthouse, and stopped abruptly. The news media swarmed outside the door, waiting for them to leave the building.

"The courthouse is charmed so that we can't disapperate, so we have to run the gauntlet," he said tersely. "Follow me as closely as you can. My car's at the very end of the second row of the parking lot. Ready?"

She nodded, and he opened the door. Flashing cameras blinded them as they hurried down the sidewalk. Phillip charmed the doors of the car open, and Isabelle slammed the door of the Trans Am quickly, nearly catching a microphone. They sat for a minute, and caught their breath before driving away.

Neither of them said anything on the way to Isabelle's house on the James River. Like all of her properties, it was in Harry's name so that Sergei didn't know about its existence. The car sped up the driveway, and stopped at the front door. They jumped out, and rushed into the house, completely exhausted.

Stephen and Abbie tackled them as soon as they crossed the threshold of the living room. Isabelle just held them for a minute, grateful that they were alive.

"Aunt Is-belle, where's Mommy and Daddy and Carrie?" Abbie asked through teary eyes.

She swallowed back her own tears. "They're in heaven, sweetie."

Phillip knelt down to their level. "Everyone's in heaven now, except for us. Some bad people came and took them away."

"Why?"

"I don't know, Stephen. I wish I did." Isabelle wrapped her arms around the upset little boy. "My parents died when I was about your age, and I know how scary it is."

"Really? What happened then?"

"Then I lived with my big sister Lily until a bad wizard named Voldemort killed her. Uncle Severus saved me from the bad people, and that's why we came to Williamsburg."

"Are the bad people coming back?"

"I hope not. But, if they do, we'll be here to protect you. Uncle Severus and I know how to fight bad wizards and witches," Isabelle reassured them.

She looked up for the first time since entering the room, and blinked in surprise. Severus sat stony faced on the sofa beside an equally dazed Stacey. Behind them, Lucius Malfoy hovered in the doorway. He was the last person she expected to see.

"Hey, why don't I take y'all to bed?" Phillip said to the children, leading them up the staircase.

"I'll walk you to your room, Isabelle, if you don't mind," Lucius asked her. She nodded curtly, and walked down the hallway.

"I can't believe you letting him take advantage of her that way," Stacey drawled indignantly. "We both know what's going to happen."

He couldn't meet her eyes. Despite his own anguish, he would rather allow Malfoy to take advantage of her vulnerability once rather than let her turn to Sirius for comfort. "What goes on behind closed doors is not my concern."

Down the hallway, Isabelle turned the doorknob to her bedroom and turned around. "Would you like to come in for a minute?"

Lucius followed her into the palatial master bedroom suite. "Quite a place you have here."

"Thank you. The view of the river is my favorite part of the entire house. I used to sit on the patio and think," she said softly, walking to the sliding glass doors and looking out into the night sky.

"Snape told me, Isabelle."

"I figured."

He crossed the room, standing behind her and wrapping his arms around her. "Raised by Sirius Black and Severus Snape. What an unholy combination."

"Tell me about it." She leaned her head against his shoulder.

"Is there anything I can do for you?" he asked as sincerely as he was capable of.

She shook her head no. The only thing she wanted wasn't a thing at all – it was a person.

She desperately wanted to owl Sirius, to have him comfort her. But, her earlier conversation with Severus echoed through her head from deep in the recesses of her memory. No matter how much she needed him, the children came first, now more than ever. And, they needed stability in their lives. She turned around and looked Lucius in the eye.

"Will you keep me company tonight? I don't want to be alone," she asked him quietly.

"Of course, Isabelle. It's the middle of the night in England, so I can stay most of the night without anyone noticing that I'm gone. But, I have to be at work in the morning so that I don't attract the attention of the Ministry or the Dark Lord. Is that alright?" He cupped her face in his hand.

She nodded. "Thank you."

Later that evening, Lucius watched her sleeping, absentmindedly twirling a lock of her hair around his finger. She looked so angelic when she slept. He missed that; in fact, he missed everything about her. To him, Isabelle was the perfect woman – beautiful, powerful, strong, but dutiful and compliant. If he had refused her earlier, she would have accepted his decision without question or complaint. Unlike Narcissa, who nagged him constantly and second-guessed all his decisions. He frowned.

Nothing would make him happier than continuing his affair with Isabelle. However, he knew that she would leave him in a heartbeat if Sirius Black so much as breathed in her direction. That fact was clearly written on her face every time she spoke of him. What does Black have that I don't, he wondered to himself, closing his eyes to try to get at least a couple hours of sleep before he had to go to work.

-----

Sirius rushed down the familiar streets from Chelsea to Diagon Alley, furious at himself for running late. He overslept after being up for most of the night going through the old Potter and Black houses. When he was in London the day before, it occurred to him that Hermione might want to visit her parents' childhood homes. So, he visited the old neighborhood to make sure everything was in order before bringing her by. 

It wasn't just the old memories that kept him awake most of the night, he admitted to himself. Before the holidays began, he was quite serious about pursuing a relationship with Sara. In fact, he had planned on having a talk with the children about it. But, then he fell deeply in love with Isabelle.

Or, rather, realized how much he loved her. Then, she took him to Williamsburg, and he saw this whole other family apart from him and the children. For the first time, he became conscious of how much she sacrificed to move to Hogwarts. She had a life that he wasn't a part of, and that stung his pride.

As a result, he spent the night pacing the hallways of the old Potter house, trying to decide what to do, who to be with. He finally made his decision around three in the morning, and set an alarm clock to wake him up shortly before the stores opened up. Unfortunately, the ancient alarm didn't work, so he found himself hurrying through the Leaky Cauldron, and into a tiny jewelry store.

He looked around, thankful that he was the only person in the store. A tall, thin-nosed man walked out of the back office and inquired if Sirius needed any assistance. He described exactly what he wanted made to the man, who blinked in surprise.

"Size four and three-quarters? Are you certain? I don't believe I've ever made a ring that small."

"Positive. I'm sure this is enough for your time and your silence," Sirius said, passing the jeweler a large stack of bills. He counted them, obviously pleased with the payment.

"Please wait." He stepped back into the office. Rainbow colored sparks shot out from the office doorway accompanied by a cacophony of screeching noises. Huffing and red-faced, he emerged five minutes later holding a tiny ring.

"Is this acceptable?" he asked.

Sirius examined it carefully, turning it over in his palm. "Yes, thank you."

The jeweler placed the ring into a deep green velvet box. He gave it to Sirius, who pocketed it quickly, and walked onto the street. He smiled. Hermione would have a fit if she knew what he had just purchased, which is a very good reason why he went ahead and bought it when she wasn't around. On his way out of Diagon Alley, the Daily Prophet caught his eye. He didn't usually bother with reading the newspapers, but the bold headline jumped at him.

_Death Eater Attack in America: Seven Dead, English Witch Held for Questioning_

Death Eater attack? Puzzled and concerned, Sirius paid for a paper, and began to read the lead article.

_Yesterday afternoon, Death Eaters entered the home of Jake Parker, the head of the Office of Intelligence for the Williamsburg office of the OMA, killing him, his wife Brittany Spence Parker, and their two daughters, Mary Jane and Rose. Also killed in the attack were Thomas Spence, his wife Sarah Lindsay Parker Spence, and their daughter Caroline. Amazingly, two children survived the attack by unknown means – Stephen Parker and Abigail Spence. _

_Law enforcement officers arrived on the scene shortly after the attack and arrested Isabelle Evans, charging her with the murders. Interestingly, these are the first murders attributed to Death Eaters since Ms. Evans' sister, Lily Potter, was killed along with her husband James. Ms. Evans, a professor at Hogwarts' School of Witchcraft & Wizardry, was released on bond late yesterday afternoon and is scheduled to appear in court today. _

Sirius felt sick to his stomach. History was repeating itself. He forced himself to focus the multitude of thoughts racing through his head. Why hadn't Isabelle contacted him? Surely an owl or whatever bird she used when she was overseas would've found him by now. He had to find her and help her. The clock overhead struck ten o'clock in the morning. It was still the middle of the night in Virginia.

Good, he thought. He had enough time to visit Hermione before leaving to find Isabelle. He disapperated to the Grangers' neighborhood and walked up the street, gathering his thoughts together. Hermione spotted him from the living room window, and rushed out to meet him, clutching a copy of the Daily Prophet.

"What is going on, here? Have you seen Isabelle? Is she alright?" she said in a rush.

"All I know is what's in the paper. I'm getting ready to go to Williamsburg now," he replied.

"I'm going with you."

He shook his head no. "The best thing for you to do is to stay here where you're safe."

"I'm going," she said through clenched teeth.

"You're staying, and that's the end of it," he roared, crossing his arms across his chest.

"We'll see," she mumbled underneath her breath, already forming a plan to get to Virginia in her mind.

"Please don't make this difficult. I'll owl you just as soon as I find something out."

"Fine." She wouldn't meet his eyes. "Tell Isabelle I love her."

Sirius blinked in surprise; she had never said that before. "Sure."

"Take care of yourself. I don't want to become an orphan again. It's kind of lonely," she said with a feeble smile. "I love you."

"Love you too. See you soon, ok?"

"Ok." Sooner than you think, Hermione thought as she hurried up the walk to owl Harry. She wanted to be with Isabelle, and figured that she could get them out of any punishment Sirius thought of for their disobedience. She hoped, anyway, crossing her fingers. Otherwise, she might not see daylight again until her eighteenth birthday.

Sirius walked up the courthouse stairs, figuring the clerk would know where Isabelle was staying. Surely she would have to state an address as a condition of her bond. His footsteps echoed through the empty courthouse as he opened the door of the circuit court clerk's office and let himself in. A short, dumpy woman sat at the desk, half asleep.

"Excuse me, ma'am?" The woman snapped to attention at the sound of his voice.

"What can I do for you, sir?" she drawled.

"I would like to see the Isabelle Evans file, if you don't mind," he asked as politely as possible.

"Actually, I do mind. The file is sealed." She narrowed her eyes.

"Aren't circuit court files public record? They can't be sealed," Sirius argued, exasperated.

"Well, this one is."

"Alright, fine. I just want to know the address on her bond paperwork. Isabelle's my--" his voice trailed off. What was she to him, anyway? The clerk looked at him expectantly.

"Your what? Look, mister, I don't know who you are, but I'm not allowed to release any information about the case. You can come back at noon for the grand jury hearing."

"Pardon me, but who are you and why do you want to see Isabelle Evans?" a deep voice beside him asked. He looked to his right, and saw a weary looking wizard holding a massive stack of papers. The man had the same deep blue eyes as Stephen, and blonde curly hair like all of the Spences.

The wizard turned towards the clerk's desk, and instantly recognized the man in front of him. So, this is Isabelle's Sirius, Phillip thought to himself. Why is he here asking for her whereabouts? Hasn't she owled him? His brow furrowed.

"Sirius Black. You must be Phillip Spence. Sorry to meet you under these circumstances."

"Likewise." He dropped the pile of paperwork on the clerk's desk. "Amanda, the top forms are the standby guardianship petitions for Stephen and Abbie, followed by custody petitions. The pleadings for Isabelle's court date today are at the bottom."

The clerk thumbed through the stack to make sure everything was in order. "Thank you, Phillip. I hope you can straighten out this mess."

"Me, too. You can come with me," he said, leading Sirius through the door and into the hallway. He eyed him for a minute, and spoke. "She's at her house in town. I'm heading back there now before the children wake up. Do you need a ride?"

"Yes, actually."

"I'm guessing you haven't spoken to Isabelle yet."

"No, I haven't."

"Honestly, that surprises me," Phillip said, getting into his car. "Well, it was a nightmarish day."

"I can imagine."

I bet, he thought, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel as he headed towards the river. "Isabelle's trial is at noon. Well, you heard the clerk say that. I'm glad Stacey's here to watch the children for a couple of hours so that I can prepare my argument. I really want to spend the morning with them, but it's better to get this farce over with as quickly as possible."

"Stacey Ferguson? The one who's with Snape?"

"Yeah, glad he's here, too. Although, from what I've heard, you and he don't get along very well."

"To put it mildly." Just wonderful, Sirius scowled as the car rocketed up the driveway, hoping that he could somehow see Isabelle without having to deal with Snape.

A strikingly pretty, average height, dark auburn haired woman opened the door. "Stephen's havin breakfast ihn the kitchen, and Abbie's still asleep, Phillip."

Sirius blinked. What language is she speaking, he wondered, because it certainly didn't sound like English to him. He had grown accustomed to Isabelle's soft, flowing Virginia accent, and assumed all people from southern America spoke the same way. Obviously not; this woman completely butchered the English language into barely decipherable phrases.

"Thank you for watching them, Stacey." He walked off towards the kitchen to see his nephew before heading to the study.

"Anhd who are you?" she said, one hand on her hip. Actually, she knew exactly who he was, and why he was here. And she didn't like it one bit. In her opinion, he ruined Isabelle's life and left Severus to pick up the pieces.

"Sirius Black. I'm here to see Isabelle. Where is she?"

"Isahbayle's asleep. Maybe you shood come back to see her lahter." She looked straight in the eyes. "Maybe you shoodn't have left at all."

His jaw dropped. She had some nerve to criticize his decisions. He swallowed, trying to control his temper; his nerves were nearly frazzled. No wonder she and Snape get along so well, he grumbled internally.

"Perhaps not," he said evenly. "Is her bedroom on the first floor or second?"

"Furst."

"Thank you." He walked down the long hallway, knocking on the only closed door. No answer. He sighed, and opened the door. She stirred at the sound of the door closing.

"Lucius? I thought you left hours ago," she said, flipping over. Her eyes flew wide open.

"Isabelle, that is, uh, am I interrupting something here, because if I am, I'll just leave," Sirius studdered. "I just wanted to make sure that you're ok, and obviously you are, so I'll be going now." He began to make a quick escape for the door.

"No! Please wait." Sirius paused in the doorway. "The only thing you're interrupting is my nightmares. Please stay."

He shut the door behind him, crossed the room, and sat on the edge of the bed. She buried her head in his chest, sobbing. Several times, she tried to speak, but every time the words got caught in her throat.

"Hey, it's ok. You don't have to say anything. I understand," he said gently. She hiccuped, and looked into his eyes.

"I killed them, Sirius. Why was I too blind to see that they were in danger? How can I look into Stephen and Abbie's eyes knowing it's my fault they're orphans?"

"The same way I'm looking in your eyes now, Belle. I killed your sister."

"No, Voldemort did. You tried to save her."

"And Remizov killed your friends. You can't keep looking back, thinking of all the ways you could've changed things. That will only drive you crazy, and won't change a thing. I know it's hard, believe me, I lived it, but you need to pick up the pieces and try to move on."

"How, when the only thing I want to do is die. Everyone I love is either dead or in mortal danger because of me. My daughter, my sister, my parents -- all dead, and that's just the beginning. I have nothing to live for."

"Yes, you do. The children need you. I need you. I love you, Isabelle."

She rested her head on his shoulder, thinking about his words, not knowing how to respond. "I love you, too."

But not the way I love you, Sirius thought. No matter how desperately he wanted to tell her how he felt about her, he knew that she needed him as a friend right now. If anyone understood her agony, he did. So, simply having her in his life had to be enough – for now.

"What time is it?" she asked.

"Nine o'clock. Hungry?"

"No, thirsty. I think I'll go get some orange juice."

"I'll go get it. Be right back." He walked into the hallway, suddenly hearing a familiar female voice. His blood boiled, and he tried to get his temper in check before entering the kitchen.

"If you mix the yellow paint on this finger, with the blue paint on this finger, the paper turns green, see?"

"Oooh," squealed an excited little voice. Abbie looked up from her finger painting, and pointed a pudgy, paint-covered finger at the doorway. "That's Sir-us. He knows Aunt Is-belle."

"Good morning, Papa," Hermione said in an overly cheerful voice.

"Indeed. Abbie, can I borrow your art teacher for a minute?"

"Ok, Sir-us."

He led Hermione by the arm into the empty living room. "Explain yourself."

"I just wanted to be here for Isabelle," she said quietly.

"I told you to stay at home."

"I know, but Harry and I decided that--"

"Harry's here, too?" His voice rose.

"Yeah. He's teaching Stephen to play Quiddich in the backyard. I owled him this morning, and well, we decided that we could help them because we know what they're going through."

Sirius shut his eyes and counted to ten slowly before continuing. "Let's back up this conversation a bit, ok? What did I tell you to do?"

"Stay home."

"And, in your infinite wisdom, you overruled my decision. I don't care that you had the best motives in the world. Yesterday, Isabelle's psychopathic ex-husband killed seven people and framed her for the murders because she hurt his feelings when she left him. I wanted you to stay put for your own safety, not to punish you."

"I'm sorry." Her chin quivered.

"Sorry just isn't good enough, Hermione. When Isabelle or I tell you to do something, do it. Don't ask questions, don't disobey us, just trust us."

"I understand."

"Do you?" he said sharply. "You could've gotten killed. Death Eaters already targeted you once, and seem to make a sport out of trying to kill Harry."

"Hermione? I didn't know you were here," Isabelle said, walking into the room, immediately realizing that she interrupted one of Sirius' lectures. Grateful for the interruption, she rushed over and gave Isabelle a huge hug.

"We came as soon as we found out what happened," she explained. "Well, it took a little while to find the house."

"How did you get here?" Isabelle asked through narrowed eyes.

"Excellent question," Sirius added, still irate.

"We took the Floo network to the courthouse in Williamsburg, and then went to the circuit court clerk's office to do a deed search to find where Isabelle's property is. Well, she doesn't own property here – but Harry does. So, then we took a taxi here and some lady named Stacey came to the door. She went to the store with Professor Snape an hour ago."

"When are they getting back?" Isabelle asked.

"Stacey said that they would meet you at the courthouse before the trial starts. Is she dating Professor Snape, because it sure looked that way." She shuddered, making a horrific face. "I don't know how anyone could find him at all attractive."

"You'd be surprised," Isabelle muttered underneath her breath so that only Sirius heard her. He gave her a poisonous look, and stormed out the room to talk to Harry.

"What was that about?" Hermione asked, confused.

"Oh, he's just in one of his angry moods," she said smoothly. "Takes nothing to set him off – you know that."

"Set who off?" Phillip asked, walking into the room with a large stack of papers. Hermione turned bright red, obviously impressed.

"Sirius. How's the argument coming along?"

"As good as it's going to get. I can't believe the mess the Commonwealth's going to argue this afternoon. These pleadings are ridiculous," he fumed, running his hand through his hair. "I'm sorry you have to go through this."

"I'm sorry, too, Phillip. You don't have to represent me if it's too hard on you. I'll understand," Isabelle said quietly.

"I owe it to you and my family's memory to make sure justice is served." Abbie ran into the room, wrapping herself around his legs. "Hey, sweetie. What have you been up to this morning?"

"I ate toast and then I painted."

"What did you paint?" He picked her up, examining her stained fingers.

"Trees. She showed me." Abbie pointed to Hermione, who was still a vivid shade of pink.

"Oh," he said. "Are you going to introduce me to your friend?"

"No," she shook her head seriously. "I can't say her name."

Isabelle burst out laughing, which was a welcome stress release. "Phillip, this is Hermione, Sirius' daughter. Hermione, this is my friend Phillip Spence."

"Nice to meet you." He shifted Abbie, and extended his hand.

"You, too," she mumbled, shaking his hand.

He looked back at Isabelle. "Are you ready to leave? I want to get to the courtroom in time to _voir dire_ the grand jury."

"Sure. I just want to say hi to Harry and tell Stephen and Sirius goodbye." She grabbed her wrap from the couch, and went outside.

"What does _voir dire_ mean?" Hermione asked shyly.

Phillip smiled. "It means that I'm going to ask the jury members questions to make sure that they're not biased against Isabelle. If I or the Commonwealth thinks that a jury member's prejudiced, we can dismiss that person and have an alternate selected."

"What's a grand jury hearing?"

"Well, in the old days, there weren't such things as private investigators, policemen, or intelligence agents. So, when someone was charged with a crime, the Court chose a group of ordinary men and women to be the investigators, called a grand jury. Nowadays, the grand jury doesn't usually investigate anything. But, they do hear the preliminary evidence and arguments by counsel and decide whether the case should be dismissed or proceed to full trial. I'm hoping the grand jury will drop the charges."

"What are the chances of that?"

"I don't know."

Voices echoed down the hallway, interrupting her train of thought. Stephen stomped in the room, carrying his broomstick, followed by an exhausted Harry. They both collapsed on the couch, putting their feet up on the coffee table. A minute later, Isabelle and Sirius walked into the room together, talking quietly.

"We'll be back later this afternoon," Sirius told Hermione. "The wireless is in the study. You can listen to the trial there."

"But--" she began.

"No buts. The two of you are to stay with Stephen and Abbie. There's plenty of security around this place, so you will be safe unless you run off somewhere."

She and Harry both looked incredibly disappointed that they weren't allowed to go to the courthouse, but didn't argue. They hugged Isabelle goodbye, and watched the car drive out of sight. Hermione looked at the children, thinking about how incredibly unfair life was.

"So, do you know where the study is?" Harry asked.

"It's down the hallway to the left," Stephen replied. "Is Aunt Isabelle going to jail?" "I hope not," he replied.

They walked into the study, where Harry fiddled with the wireless receiver until the local station came in clearly. He looked at his watch. It was quarter till noon. He turned up the volume, and sat on the floor beside Abbie, who was coloring.

_Minutes from now, the grand jury trial of Isabelle Evans will begin. Ms. Evans, former ballet dancer and current professor at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry in England, was visiting Williamsburg on holiday when the murders occurred. She has just entered the courtroom with her lawyer, Phillip Spence. In addition to being the former paramour of Ms. Evans, Mr. Spence is related by blood or marriage to all of yesterday's victims. His representation of the defendant is quite puzzling to all involved. _

"It's not puzzling," Hermione snapped at the wireless. "She's innocent, you gits."

_Her former guardian, Sirius Black, who was acquitted last year of the murder of Ms. Evans' sister, also accompanies the defendant. After his release, he and the defendant took up residence together at the Hogwarts School, where they raise his daughter and her nephew. _

"Took up residence together? Makes it sound like they're having some sort of love affair," Harry said indignantly.

"I wish," Hermione replied.

"Speaking of love affairs and whatnot, what's going on with you and Ron?"

"You know what."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Other than that."

"Prat." She sighed. "I don't know. Viktor gets back from Bulgaria in a couple of days, so time's running out. And I have no idea what to do."

"Dump one or the other. Pretty simple."

"Thank you, Captain Obvious."

"Anytime."

"So, did you snog Ginny when you were at the Burrow?" she retaliated.

"What?" he stuttered, turning bright red.

"I knew it!" she said triumphantly. "How'd you manage that, with all those brothers around?"

He waved his hand dismissively. "They were a little too caught up in the wedding frenzy to notice us sneaking off."

"Oh, when's the wedding?"

"Easter holidays."

They sat in silence for a minute, listening to the opening statements by the judge.

"Where's Professor Patil, anyway? You'd think he'd be here with Isabelle," Hermione huffed.

"Sirius told me that he owled her some lame excuse about needing to be with his family for the holidays." Harry rolled his eyes. "Where's the wicked stepmother?"

"Apparently she couldn't close her store to come here because of the busy return season after the holidays. Maybe she'll just disappear," she said hopefully.

"Maybe."

Hermione scooted from the couch to sit beside Harry on the floor, rested her chin on her knees, and listened to the prosecution drone on and on. Finally, the Commonwealth rested. All four children sat up, and moved closer to the wireless as the judge gave Phillip Spence permission to begin his argument.

_May it please the Court, my name is Phillip Spence, and I represent the defendant, Isabelle Evans, in this grand jury hearing. _

"Wow. What an accent," Hermione gushed.

"Oh, for crying out loud. Isabelle's on trial for murder, and you're thinking about her ex-boyfriend's accent?"

"He's smart, too."

Harry gave her an evil look. She shrugged, and tilted her head to hear the argument better.

_The Commonwealth correctly pointed out the similarities between this crime and the murders of Ms. Evans' sister and brother-in-law fourteen years ago. To believe this is more than mere coincidence requires a logical connection that frankly, doesn't even make sense. Fourteen years ago, Ms. Evans was a target of Lord Voldemort herself. The only reason she survived the attack was because of the intervention of a merciful Death Eater. _

_Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, my client is not a murderer. She had no motive to kill her friends and three godchildren. Whoever committed this crime purposely constructed it to mirror her own sister's murder – an incredibly evil and clever touch. I ask you today to honor my family's memory by allowing my client to grieve in peace, without a cloud of suspicion hovering over her. Thank you. _

There was a rustling sound, as the jury adjourned to deliberate. The reporters commentated on the two arguments, and the possible outcomes. Finally, the jury reached a decision, and filed back into the courtroom. Hermione clutched Harry's hand as the forewoman began to speak.

_Before we continue, the members of the jury and I would like to express our heartfelt sympathy for the Spence and Parker families for their great losses yesterday. This grand jury has reached a unanimous verdict in this matter. We decline to certify these charges to the circuit court and drop all charges against the defendant, Isabelle Evans. _

_Because of the nature of this case, the jury would like to explain its rationale to the Court. We do not believe the theory that Ms. Evans was a participant in her sister's murder fourteen years ago along with her guardian, Sirius Black. This would require two logical presumptions that are not grounded in fact: one, that Mr. Black was a participant in the murders, which he was not; and two, that Ms. Evans and Mr. Black had some collective motive to commit the crimes. _

_Now, the Commonwealth argued that their current cohabitation shows a motive, which was that they desired to pursue a love affair, which was frowned upon and possibly forbidden by Ms. Evans' sister, Lily. The jury finds that assertion absolutely ridiculous based on the evidence. First, Mrs. Potter would never allow her sister to be in an environment she considered unsafe. In addition, the evidence shows that Mr. Black tried to adopt Ms. Evans shortly before the murders occurred. It flies against common sense that a man would adopt a young woman he desired to have an affair with. _

_Even if Mr. Black and Ms. Evans were having an affair, Ms. Evans was sixteen at the time of the murders, well above the age of legal consent. While most people would consider a relationship between a twenty-six year old man and a sixteen year old girl repugnant, it would not have been illegal. As for the present, the jury makes no findings as to the current status of the parties' relationship because we do not feel that it makes a difference in this case whatsoever. _

_Because the jury refuses to accept the presumption that Ms. Evans acted as a party to her sister's murder, alone or with Mr. Black, the jury declines to believe the theory that the crimes mirror each other because the style of the killings is her modus operandi. _

_The jury also rejects the theory that Ms. Evans participated in the murders along with her former husband, Count Sergei Remizov. Again, that theory requires two invalid presumptions: one, that Count Remizov is a Death Eater; and two, that Ms. Evans and Count Remizov are somehow allied despite their current bitter divorce proceedings. There is no evidence to prove either presumption. _

_Based on these facts, the jury holds that Ms. Evans is not liable or culpable for the brutal murders that transpired yesterday. _

A loud murmuring erupted in the courtroom. The judge pounded his gavel against the bench repeatedly.

_Order! Order! The Court notes the jury's decision. Ms. Evans, you are free to go. This Court is adjourned._


	18. Chapter 18

**Chapter 18**

The full moon reflected in the James River, highlighting the thousands of tiny stars in the sky. A brisk winter breeze whipped across the water, causing Isabelle to wrap her coat more tightly around her body. She crossed the backyard to a swing by the water's edge, thinking. The full moon reflected in the James River, highlighting the thousands of tiny stars in the sky. A brisk winter breeze whipped across the water, causing Isabelle to wrap her coat more tightly around her body. She crossed the backyard to a swing by the water's edge, thinking.

It had only been two days since she buried her friends in a cold, raining graveside funeral. Somehow, she and Phillip managed to make the necessary arrangements and make it through the service. She sighed, kicking the swing back and forth with her foot. The leaves on the ground began to rustle, alerting her that she was no longer alone.

"Hello, Sirius," she said, looking out over the water.

"Hey, Belle. Nice view you have here," he replied conversationally. Ever since the trial, she had been virtually silent, except with the children.

"Thank you. It's what sold the house for me. I bought it shortly before I left Sergei. I planned to raise Katrina here."

He didn't quite know what to say to that. In fact, he got the distinct impression that Isabelle was upset about something other than the obvious, but he couldn't figure out what. So, he decided to let the statement go, and change the subject.

"I'm planning to take the children home tomorrow. Hermione's been asking about her mum a lot lately, so I figured I'd take them by the old houses."

"I bet both of them would like that."

"I'll probably take them by the cemetery, too."

"Not tomorrow, you're not," Isabelle said sharply. "It's New Year's Day."

She watched a look of confusion, then understanding, then intense anger come over Sirius' face.

"So what," he exploded. "Regina's my wife, and I'll take our daughter to visit her whenever I damn well please."

"No, you won't. Please be sensitive," she begged.

"No." He crossed his arms over his chest, irate. "You don't understand, Isabelle."

"You don't understand," she replied quietly, turning to look him dead in the eyes. "If you bring Hermione anywhere near that cemetery tomorrow, I swear on my daughter's grave that I will tell her everything. And I mean everything."

"You wouldn't," Sirius said dismissively.

"Try me."

"Why are you defending him?"

"Because he's a good man and I love him. He's always been there for me."

Sirius felt as though Isabelle had slapped him in the face. "I would have, too, if he hadn't allowed me to rot in Azkaban all those years."

"How dare you accuse Severus of keeping you in prison," she spat. "It's thanks to him that you're free right now. He saved your daughter's life, and mine. Have you ever thanked him for any of it? No, you repaid him with bitterness and contempt."

"Fine. What do you want me to do? Walk up to him and thank him for killing my wife? Regina would be here today, alive, if it wasn't for him."

"I see." Tears stung Isabelle's eyes. He couldn't ever love me, she realized, because he's still in love with a memory. It was difficult enough competing with a live person, but she had no hope against a ghost. She swallowed back her tears and gathered together what pride she had left.

"He killed her, huh? And, she never would've met him in New York if you had gone with her like you were supposed to, right? Right," Isabelle said to herself. "You stayed in Dover because of me, because I needed you more than she did. Or so you thought. So, if it wasn't for me, she wouldn't have died. Chalk up another senseless death to me."

"Isabelle, wait," Sirius said helplessly as she stood up and ran towards the house. He felt like a complete jerk.

-----

Two figures in black cloaks snuck though the faculty grounds, and into the back door of the deserted southern-style house. They wound their way through the familiar kitchen, and into the living room. The taller of the two figures put down the hood of his cloak and looked around cautiously. 

"All of them are gone, just like I told you," he said in a stage whisper.

"Yes, but for how long?" Sara O'Neill took a pocket watch out of her cloak pocket and checked the time. Eight o'clock p.m.

"Isabelle owled me yesterday that they're due back in town around ten o'clock. I'm supposed to pick her up from the train station."

"Where do you want to search tonight, Andrew?" she said, frustrated. "Fudge's getting impatient, and we're no closer to finding out this family's alliances than we were three months ago. I say we search Isabelle's room again."

"Must we keep targeting her? She's going through enough as it is."

"This is a job, Andrew. Don't let your personal feelings get in the way here."

His jaw clenched. "And it's just a job for you?"

"Look, the Ministry's paying me to get information, not to fall in love."

"Fine. Isabelle's room it is."

They crept up the staircase and into her room; painstakingly searching for anything they could've missed on their five previous searches. Andrew spied a tiny box in the back of her sock drawer and carefully pulled it out. He squinted, and flipped it over in his hand.

"Engorgo," he said quietly. The box grew into what appeared to be a photo album. He tried to open the cover, but it was charmed shut.

"What's that?" Sara whispered.

"A photo album, I think. It's charmed shut."

"Aren't you a charm breaker?" she snapped.

"Yes," he said distractedly. "But Isabelle's a genius, which makes opening this thing difficult."

"And also means that she doesn't want people to see whatever's in that album," Sara replied, rubbing her hands together excitedly. The sooner this job was over, the better for her. She was beginning to get attached to Sirius Black.

After a few minutes, Andrew managed to get the album open. He flipped through the pages, seeing nothing out of the ordinary until he reached the middle of the book. It was a picture of Isabelle, shortly after she went to America. She was at a beach, in a red flowered bikini, on the shoulders of a tall, tan man who looked to be in his mid to late twenties. The man kept acting like he was going to throw her into the water, and both of them were laughing hysterically as waves washed over them. Puzzled, he showed Sara the picture.

"Something about this man is familiar, but I can't figure out what," he mused.

She stared for a minute until something clicked in her mind. "That's Severus Snape. I'm sure of it."

"How?" he asked incredulously. The man in the picture bore little resemblance to the Potions professor.

"He wears a ring on a chain around his neck that's identical to the one in this picture."

"So, Snape was the Death Eater that looked after her," Andrew realized.

"Exactly. Snape was seen a month ago, along with Isabelle's ex-husband Sergei Remizov, with Lord Voldemort. Not to mention those rumors that she's having an affair with Lucius Malfoy, another well-known Death Eater."

"Incorrect rumors," Andrew scowled.

"For pity's sake, she's got you fooled, too!"

"Alright, even accepting all of that as fact, how do you explain her alliance with Sirius Black? She's more loyal to him than the rest of them put together."

"Easily. We might not be able to prove that he's a Death Eater, trust me, I checked. But, that doesn't mean that he isn't allied with the Dark Lord. All of this is more than coincidence to me."

"Me, too." He sighed. "At least we have something to tell Fudge."

"At long last," Sara said triumphantly.

Andrew didn't share her enthusiasm. He smiled wryly as he put away the album and straightened up the room. With a heavy heart, he followed Sara downstairs, through the house, and into Hogsmeade to meet Isabelle.

-----

The gentle lulling of the train rocked everyone to sleep in the compartment except Isabelle, who stared into the night sky as the scenery rolled by. She shifted Abbie in her lap, and brushed her hair out of her eyes before checking her watch. It was quarter of ten. 

"Sirius?" she whispered softly, knowing he would awaken immediately.

"What?" he grumbled, slowly opening one eye.

"We're almost in Hogsmeade."

He yawned and stretched, blinking furiously. "I'll go wake up the kids."

"Thank you," she replied.

After fighting on New Year's Eve, they had barely spoken to one another. Sirius stormed out the living room when Severus left for Hogwarts on New Year's Day. But, he did stay in Williamsburg an extra two days with the excuse of showing the children the town, although he shot Isabelle daggers with his eyes whenever they were in the same room. She was quite thankful when he, Harry and Hermione left for London three days ago.

They met up with she, Phillip, Stephen and Abbie earlier today in Diagon Alley. She and Phillip decided that the children were not safe in Williamsburg any longer. And, that a new environment would help them adjust more easily to their new life. So, Phillip made arrangements to open the thirteenth office of Spence, Markham and Powers in Hogsmeade. Lucky number thirteen, he had said, trying to put a positive spin on the situation.

"Phillip," she hissed, shaking him slightly. "Wake up."

He stirred, sitting up and putting on his glasses. "Where'd Sirius go?"

"To get the kids. They decided to stretch out in the compartment across the hall," she explained.

A sleepy Hermione, Harry and Stephen walked in, flopping down on the bench across from Isabelle and Phillip. Sirius began passing everyone their suitcases from the overhead storage area. After placing her small bag at her feet, Isabelle closed her eyes and leaned against the back of the seat. If only life could go back to the way it was Christmas Eve before the dance. But, there was no use living in the past, she told herself firmly. Besides, at least she knew what kissing Sirius Black was like, even though she knew that was a once in a lifetime experience. Well, twice, she thought, her face turning scarlet.

"What are you blushing for?" Phillip asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Oh, just thinking about Andrew," she lied, knowing that he didn't believe her for a second.

The train stopped at the station, and everyone filed out the train. Isabelle rushed over to Andrew, with Abbie still in her arms.

"Hey," he said softly, kissing her and taking her bag.

"Hey, yourself," she replied. They walked down the ramp together, talking quietly.

Sirius followed at a safe distance, fuming. Isabelle's former lovers surrounded him. Current, he corrected himself dejectedly, looking at she and Patil. And who knew what was going on with she and Malfoy. Who had a knack for conveniently showing up just when Isabelle was most vulnerable. Patil, Spence, Malfoy – all of whom were still around, showing interest in her. He didn't know what ached worse: his head, or his heart.

-----

Hermione stormed in the Gryffindor common room and flung herself in an empty chair beside Harry, and crossed her arms. 

"What's wrong with you?" he asked, not looking up from his Astronomy textbook. He completely forgot that he had to map out three constellations of his choice for tomorrow's class. So, he spent the last half hour trying to find the three least complicated constellations and was busy transferring them onto his parchment.

"Ron," she spat.

"Ok." Harry carefully plotted out the Little Dipper, and expertly connected the stars together. He was considering whether to add a little flair to his project when Hermione interrupted his train of thought.

"Beautiful. Now, are you going to listen to me, or what?"

"What."

"Must you be a prat all the time?"

"Yes. I need to get my Divination homework done, and I'm guessing that you're going to tell me I've lost my study partner. Right?"

"Right." She wrung her hands dramatically. "On the train ride, I decided to break up with Viktor to see where things went with Ron. Well, on my way to the dungeons, I saw Ron flirting with another girl. So, I asked him about it, and he starts yelling at me."

"And you yelled back."

"No, I just told him that I wasn't going to play his silly games. I've got better things to do with my time."

She tossed her hair back, and immersed herself in a large medical textbook. Harry just shook his head. She and Ron were like an endless Muggle soap opera, he decided. It was best to avoid their vortex as much as possible, which was difficult considering he was always stuck in the middle of their drama. Sometimes he thought Hermione simply enjoyed the spectacle – something to keep her from getting bored.

"Got enough books over there?" he teased. He could barely see her head over the stack.

"For starters," she called back. A spinning noise echoed through the room. "What are you doing?"

"My Divination homework," he replied.

She peered over the books, and watched Harry spin a charmed arrow around a circle drawn on a piece of parchment. The circle was split into eight parts with headings like "falls into lake, nearly eaten by giant squid" and "horrid Quiddich accident – struck by rogue Quaffle". Her personal favorite was "crushed by giant flubberworms – nasty, painful death".

"Where'd you get that from?" she laughed.

"Aunt Isabelle gave it to me over the holidays. It used to be my dad's. He gave it to her when Mum wouldn't let her quit Divination. He charmed it so that the headings would change every now and then so no one got suspicious. Sure makes homework easier."

"Let's see what the Inner Eye has in store for me," Hermione said in a spooky voice, spinning the arrow. "Cauldron explosion – turns skin green for a week. Bummer."

Harry spun the arrow again. "Paralyzed by basilisk."

"Been there, done that."

They were laughing hysterically at this point. Ron walked into the common room, completely unnoticed by either of them. Stung by his earlier argument with Hermione, and resentful of her relationship with Harry, he slipped by them and stormed to his dorm room.

-----

"Hey, Ron. Where were you last night?" Harry asked, before Potions class started. Hermione buried her nose deeper into her book, pretending Ron didn't exist. 

"Helping Phillip Spence set up his new office in Hogsmeade. I'll probably clerk for him on the weekends."

"A second job? Is that the best idea, considering you already have a job, are on the Quiddich team, and have the O.W.L. tests coming up?" Hermione snapped from deep in the recesses of the book.

"Well, not everyone has an enormous trust fund. Some of us have to work for our money," Ron replied, his voice cold as ice.

She looked up and gave him a murderous look before disappearing again. Professor Snape stormed into the room, angrier and meaner than usual, and began the class. He took M.J.'s death particularly hard, and his classes constantly reminded him of her potions talent. Isabelle gave him a reassuring smile from the opposite side of the room.

"Today, in honor of Valentine's Day coming up and because of my good mood—" the class looked around, fearing what was next "—we will begin our study of Love Potions. The trick to a successful potion is making sure you get the correct target. Nothing is more annoying than having someone you're not interested in follow your every move until the effects wear off."

He stopped in front of Hermione, who was still engrossed in the book. Harry tried to give her covert signals so that she would have some warning that Snape was walking towards that side of the room, but she wasn't paying attention.

"Excuse me," Professor Snape said. Her head jerked to attention, with eyes round as saucers.

"Yes, Professor?"

"In case you haven't noticed, class began five minutes ago. Do you know what we're studying?"

"No, sir."

"Ah, I see." He crossed his arms. "Love Potions. Do you think yourself so lucky in love that you have no use for the subject material? Typical Black attitude. What are you reading that's so engaging?"

"Just a textbook," she said defensively. He plucked the book from her arms, and paled when he read the title. A Complete Guide to Cardiopulmonary Disease.

"What class is this?" he thundered.

"Potions."

"Thirty points from Gryffindor for bringing this trash to class. And if you ever bring in another book about anything to do with the human heart into my classroom, I swear that you will have detention until you graduate. Do I make myself clear?"

"Crystal."

He marched to the front of the classroom barking out instructions for the lab assignment, closely followed by Isabelle.

"She doesn't know, Severus. It's not her fault. Stop punishing her and Harry when it's Sirius and James you're angry at. Yelling at them won't change anything," she said so that only he heard her.

"And your all-consuming love for them won't change anything, either." They stared each other down for a minute, but couldn't help smiling.

"It's a good thing I love you, grumpy git that you are," Isabelle laughed, sitting down at the desk to grade some Muggle Studies tests on fashion.

"Likewise."

-----

"Come in. The door's unlocked," Isabelle called. 

Between the Christmas dance and everything that happened over the holidays, she was getting far behind on grading papers and preparing lesson plans. For the past two weeks, she spent every spare moment in her office, coming out only to eat and sleep. A tall blonde-haired boy entered the office and stood in front of her desk, casting a shadow on the essay she was grading.

"Mr. Malfoy, what can I do for you," she said, looking up. Uncharacteristically nervous, he wrung his hands and cleared his throat.

"Professor, I need to discuss something with you," Draco began.

"Yes?" She raised an eyebrow.

"It's about my mother. I believe she's insane," he said coolly, regaining his composure.

"I'm sorry about that Mr. Malfoy, but seeing as how I'm neither a doctor nor a counselor, I'm not sure what I can do about the problem."

Draco leaned on the desk and looked into her eyes. "You don't understand. My mother's spreading rumors at the Ministry that you and my father once had an affair. I overheard her telling this to your ex-husband over the holidays. They have this outrageous idea that you and my father have a child together. Once they find where your child is buried, they will use the paternity results to disgrace both of you and get a fault divorce so they get all your money."

"I see."

"Like I said, Mum's insane and needs treatment. Perhaps commitment to a facility for long-term evaluation. And if you would kindly let Father know that, I would appreciate it. Of course I would be willing to testify as to her illness," he said meaningfully.

Isabelle looked at Draco in disbelief. Was he implying what she thought he was implying? And if so, what was his motive for turning against his mother to support an absentee father? A brief flicker of pain flashed in his eyes, and she understood. He wanted his father's approval so badly that he would do anything for it. If nothing else came of it, she decided to owl Lucius to talk about his son. He was absolutely starving for attention, which could become very dangerous.

"Thank you, Mr. Malfoy, for the information. I will pass it on to the appropriate people."

"You're welcome, Professor Evans. Good night."

"Good night."

He turned, and walked out the door.

Isabelle began composing a letter to Lucius. After pausing in the middle of a sentence and thinking for a minute, she flung her pen down on the desk in intense frustration. Her world was quickly becoming a tangled web of alliances. So many secrets, and deceptions – she hated it, all of it. Always having to be on guard, never a relaxed moment. A knock sounded at the door.

"Come in," bracing herself for what the next guest to her office might bring.

Sirius walked through the doorway and sat down in front of her desk. Before he could open his mouth to speak, she began talking sharply and rapidly.

"Look, I've had enough drama for one day. So, if you're here to talk about the following subjects, I'm not interested, so please leave my office: Severus going off on Hermione, your and Severus' perpetual hate fest, your daughter's love life, Harry's love life," she ticked the off-limits topics off on her fingers, "and last, but certainly not least, my life in general. Which includes: mourning seven dear friends, my relationship with Andrew, my relationship with Phillip, which preschool to send Stephen and Abbie to, my divorce from Sergei and who is the bloody father of my child. Oh, can't forget Lucius – don't want to discuss him or his son."

"Bad day?"

"Awful." She flung her head on her arms dramatically.

"Maybe this will make you feel better."

"What is it?"

"Food therapy, as Hermione calls it. Double chocolate cheesecake."

"Really?" She perked up slightly, picking up her head from the desk.

"Yes, really." He smiled charmingly.

"Hmmm…as a great thinker once said, beware a man bearing gifts. What did you really come here for?"

"And as another great thinker once said, don't look a gift horse in the mouth."

She laughed, throwing up her hands in mock surrender. "Alright, you win."

Sirius gave her the cheesecake, which she dug into eagerly. Right before the first bite reached her lips, she stopped her hand in mid-air.

"You didn't make this, did you?" Isabelle asked, horrified at the idea.

"Heck, no," he replied, wondering where on earth she'd get that idea from. "Dobby made it. Belle, you must be under a lot of stress if you think that I'd actually cook something."

"You have no idea."

"Try me."

"Oh, Sirius, there comes a time when you're just sick of wallowing in your own problems, and I think I reached that point about four years ago." She rolled her eyes. "I'm tired of thinking about all of it. I need a mental holiday."

"And where would you go on this holiday?"

She chewed a bite of cheesecake thoughtfully. "I'm not sure. Somewhere I can be alone and think without being disturbed, so I can sort some things out. That's the most important part. Well, it has to have a beach, of course. There's just something soothing about the waves."

"And a sunset. It's always been your favorite part of the day," he said, mostly to himself.

"Yes, a sunset is necessary," Isabelle agreed, sighing. "Anyway, I need to finish grading these tests."

Sirius looked at the huge stack of papers she pulled off the bookshelf. "Can I help you with those?"

"Probably not. They're seventh-year potions exams."

"I might not have a doctorate in chemistry like you, but I did pass Potions with the highest grade in the class all seven years. Higher than the esteemed Professor Snape, even," he defended himself. She rolled her eyes.

"I know, Sirius. Fine, you can help, but only on two conditions."

"Which are?"

"One, you stay away from all off-limits conversation topics, including the 'esteemed Professor Snape'."

"Alright. What's the second condition?"

"That you conjure up another piece of that cheesecake."

"Deal."

Sirius disappeared from the office for a few minutes and returned with cheesecake and plenty to drink. For fortitude, he explained, picking up a quill and diving into the exams. As the evening wore on, the combination of an endless sea of parchment and Sirius' drink mixing talent made both of them act punchy.

"Since when does the root of a potato and shavings from an elephant's horn produce dynamite?" Isabelle snorted.

He looked up and read the name scrawled across the top of the exam. "Well, we are talking about Fred Weasley here. I think he can make anything explosive."

"So true. Wonder if that's what he used to blow up our kitchen floor," she mused, giving full credit to the answer just in case.

"Could be. Listen to this one – ostrich feathers, juice from a yellow raisin, and Diet Coke are the main ingredients of liquid Avada Kedavra. For starters, what is Diet Coke?"

"A Muggle beverage. Ugh – does anything sink into their thick skulls?"

"I think I'll give half credit for creativity," Sirius decided.

"Good call," Isabelle said seriously. They burst out laughing hysterically.

Ten minutes later, Sirius charmed Isabelle's pen to shoot water in her face whenever she wrote the number zero. He snickered as she wiped off her face and gave him a dirty look.

"What?" he asked innocently. In response, she made his fingernails turn bright pink.

Somehow, in between pulling pranks on each other and talking, they managed to get the exams graded. With a flourish, Isabelle collected them together, tied them with twine, and shoved them in her briefcase.

"Thank you. You made this fun."

"My pleasure. Maybe we should do this again sometime," Sirius said, putting on his cloak.

"What, grade papers?"

"No, spend time together, just the two of us. We're always so busy. It's just, well, I enjoy being alone with you."

The way he said that made Isabelle's head spin. She grabbed the edge of the desk for support.

"Sure, anytime," she babbled, cursing herself for sounding like a silly schoolgirl.

"How about, say, this Friday night? Hermione said all fifth-years have a nighttime seminar for Astronomy, so there won't be any interruptions."

Her heart pounded in her chest as she hastily threw on her cloak and followed him out of the office. She hoped he didn't notice her hands shake when she locked the door.

"It's a date," she replied with an uncharacteristic shy smile, linking her arm through his. "By the way, that invisibility charm you put on your reading glasses so I wouldn't notice them – didn't work. Besides, I think they're kind of cute, in a distinguished sort of way."

"Really?" Good thing, he thought, because my vision's getting worse by the second, it seems.

"Really."

Sirius looked at Isabelle as they crossed the grounds on their way home. The night sky always made her look angelic, especially when she smiled. Enchanted, he followed the conversation as best as he could, hoping that he didn't sound like a blundering idiot.


	19. Chapter 19

**Author's Note: **So I've been a bit of a ditz & forgot to credit the songs I use in this fic. Since I don't own them & don't want to get sued for Intellectual Property violations & all, let me credit them now. Going back in time, because I'm far too lazy to correct the originals, here goes:

Chapter 12: "American Woman", performed by Lenny Kravitz  
Chapter 13: "High Enough", by Damn Yankees  
Chapter 16: "Another Suitcase in Another Hall", from the musical Evita  
and from this chapter, "Cherish" & "This Used to be My Playground", by Madonna

If you see any more non-crediting songs mistakes, please let me know, 'k?

* * *

**Chapter 19**

Harry fought to keep his head out his porridge. Since the Christmas holiday, every professor piled on work like crazy to prepare for the O.W.L. tests. Between Quiddich practice and the endless mountain of homework, he barely had time to breathe, let alone sleep. His eyes began to close for the fourth time in ten minutes when the owls swooped in, startling him awake.

"Must they always make that much noise?" he yawned.

Hermione's Daily Prophet smacked him in the back of the head. He tossed it across the table angrily, rubbing the growing bump on his scalp gingerly.

"Temper, temper," she teased.

"You're one to talk. I think I'm going to start selling tickets to yours and Ron's fights so that I can make money off your pettiness."

"Prat." She disappeared into the paper.

Ron plopped down beside Harry, gave Hermione an evil look, and helped himself to a scone.

"Hey, Harry," he said through a mouthful of scone, "my baby sister, who you better be treating right or else, asked me to tell you that she overslept and will see you at lunch."

"Even if I wasn't a perfect gentleman, a school full of older brothers would inspire me to be. What's so funny?" he asked Hermione indignantly, who was laughing so hard the newspaper shook.

"Gentleman. You really should be a comedian, Harry."

"Must run in the family, because you're no lady," Ron said snidely.

She folded the newspaper crisply and smacked it on the table. "Sod off, Weasley, or--"

"Or what? Please enlighten me with your charm and wit, or are you saving that for your idiotic git of a boyfriend? Lord knows you're not saving much else."

Harry's head began to ache, as he tuned out their escalating argument. He looked around the Great Hall to distract himself as he quickly finished his breakfast. Isabelle rose from the table where she was eating with Professor Patil, and walked over to the Slytherin table, skimming a letter. She tapped Draco Malfoy on the shoulder, leaned down, and said something in his ear. He nodded, and they left the Great Hall together. What was that about, he wondered. He picked up his book bag and headed to History of Magic class.

-----

Draco Malfoy quietly followed Isabelle through the maze of hallways to her office. She opened the door, and ushered him inside. He was not surprised to see his father standing at the window with his arms crossed, staring out over the grounds. His jaw clenched angrily. 

"So, it's true then, all of it," he spat. "You wouldn't be here if it wasn't."

Lucius turned around and looked at Isabelle, who simply nodded.

"Draco, I--"

"Save your fancy excuses, Father. And, I don't suppose an explanation's needed, either. It's simple, really. You and Mum don't get along, so you go to bed with your best friend's wife, you worthless piece of trash."

"That's enough," Isabelle interrupted sharply. "Do not speak to your father that way, at least not until we give you an explanation. You are not a child, Draco. You're old enough to understand an adult's needs and desires, and also that adults are not perfect. We make mistakes, and we hurt people in our selfish pursuit of happiness. You may not agree with what we did, but at least be man enough to respect our decisions and willingness to discuss them."

"Fine. Go on." Still fuming, he sat down, slouching and not meeting either one of their eyes.

"You're right about your mother and I. Things haven't been good between us for quite some time. But, stupidly or not, we decided to try and keep the perfect family image together for your sake."

"How noble of you," Draco sneered.

Lucius decided to ignore his son's comment. "I first met Isabelle at a Christmas party many years ago, before you left for Hogwarts. When you were in your second year, she was my houseguest in Brighton while her husband was away in London on business."

"It was a lonely time for both of us. My marriage was a façade – Sergei was, and is, a hateful, spiteful monster. Our affair was wrong, no question about it. And yes, I realized he was that Lucius Malfoy and I am that Isabelle Evans. But, at the time, Isabelle Evans didn't exist anymore, and as far as I knew, never would again. If Voldemort hadn't returned, things may have turned out differently."

She glanced over at Lucius, who quickly turned his gaze out the window. In that split second, Draco saw something he'd never seen before from his father – vulnerability. His father loved her enough to protect her, even though she lied to him about her very identity.

"Despite everything, I still care for your father very much. And always will, even though we'll probably have other romantic relationships. He's one of my closest friends, if only behind closed doors. And, I'm always here for you if you need me, no matter what you decide to do about the situation with your mother."

He looked in her deep green eyes, and realized that she actually cared about him. Which was more than he felt from anyone else, his mother included. In spite of himself, Draco smiled. He saw exactly why his father fell for her.

"About your mother," Lucius said carefully, "I know you said you'd testify that she's insane just to get Isabelle and I to tell you the truth about our relationship, correct?"

"Yeah, but I'm no fool, Father. If those rumors spread around, then Voldemort will begin to suspect that we're helping the other side. And, the Ministry will think that our family's in league with the whole Potter and Black clan to help Voldemort. So, either the Ministry will arrest us all on some trumped up charges, or the Dark Lord will kill us off. Mother must be stopped before the situation gets out of hand."

"I know this isn't easy, Draco," Isabelle said sympathetically.

"We all do what we need to do to survive. Besides, it would ruin my reputation to be publicly associated with Potter's aunt." He grinned wickedly. "Not that you're all bad."

"Thanks," she grumbled.

"Alright, if you're sure, I'll go tell Dumbledore that you need to leave for a few days because of a family emergency."

"I'm sure," Draco said with a somewhat sad, but determined look on his face.

"Why don't you go pack? I'll meet you in the Entrance Hall," Lucius replied.

He nodded, and left the office.

Isabelle crossed the room and stood at the window. Lucius followed her and rested his hands on her shoulders. She placed her right hand on top of his, and squeezed it gently.

"Better watch that son of yours before the Dark Lord traps him," she warned.

"Over my dead body."

"That may be."

"Doubtful. We're just alike, you and I. We're survivors."

"But, we pay a price for that, don't we?" she said bitterly.

"Yes, I suppose we do."

They stood for a minute, silently watching the waves crash against the lake shore. Lucius let go of her, and turned to leave. His hand paused on the doorknob.

"Do you ever wonder what might have been?" he asked.

"I try not to. If I did, the what ifs and might have beens would drive me mad. Good luck to you. Narcissa's not going down without a fight."

"Thanks," he said wryly. "Do you want me to owl me to tell you what happened?"

She shook her head no. "I'll either read about it in the news or ask Draco. Less suspicious that way."

"Fine. Goodbye, Isabelle." Without waiting for a reply, he closed the door behind him.

-----

Ron ran his hand through his hair, making it stand on end, and leaned back in his chair. For three hours now, he'd been looking through various law casebooks, law review articles and commentaries, trying to find something on subject matter jurisdiction. Whatever that was, Phillip needed a memo on the difference between establishing subject matter jurisdiction in England as opposed to America by the end of the day. Which, according to his watch, was in exactly ninety minutes. 

Although he'd only been working with the legal system for a month, Ron had an incredible aptitude for processing and analyzing law. He found himself reading _Lawyers' Weekly_ between classes, and during his shifts at the Muggle Studies lab. Because he worked at the lab, he was incredibly familiar with the Muggle lifestyle and culture. Since Spence, Markham and Powers dealt primarily with conflicts issues between the Muggle and wizarding legal systems, Ron was an ideal law clerk.

Somehow, he found the time to keep up with his schoolwork and Quiddich while working. It didn't give him a lot of spare time, though, which was somewhat of a blessing these days. Whenever his mind wandered, it always went to the same place – Hermione.

There was something about her that got under his skin, which drew him to her although she was completely impossible to be around. As if her massive O.W.L. study guides and timetables weren't annoying enough, she kept bringing Viktor around, even to the Gryffindor common room. That was beyond insulting, in Ron's opinion. How could she go back to Krum, like what happed between she and him over Christmas holidays meant nothing to her?

And she had the nerve to blame him for their fling fizzling out, when she was the one who chose to stay with Viktor. Ron maintained that he was single, and even if he was flirting or even snogging another girl, it was no different than what she was doing herself. Unfortunately, she didn't see it that way. Neither did Harry, for that matter. Who for some reason took Hermione's side in the whole conflict. So much for the loyalty of your best mate, he grumbled, picking up a quill and beginning to write.

He hastily scribbled a brief history on subject matter jurisdiction in America. He paused often to make sure he got the case law correct, snickering at case names like International Shoe. Why would someone, in their right mind, name a corporation International Shoe? Shaking his head, he continued writing his memo.

Voices floated down the hallway. Curious, he tilted his head so that he could hear better. Phillip rarely made client appointments on Saturdays. In fact, he couldn't remember him ever having one before. Usually, Phillip dropped Stephen and Abbie off with Isabelle for the day, and caught up on casework.

"Thanks for seeing me on a Saturday. It's so difficult to get out of that castle during the week."

Ron recognized the voice instantly and scooted closer to the door, his memo forgotten. What legal business did Sirius have?

"No problem. Kids will keep you busy. Besides, this is pretty standard. Now, I have to ask you some questions that are completely asinine, but you have to answer them to make this document legal," Phillip answered.

"Ok."

"What is this document?"

"It is my will."

"And, does it accurately describe the way you would like your estate to be settled upon your death?"

"It does."

"Please briefly describe the contents of the will."

"All of my wife's possessions that I inherited upon her death go to our daughter. The remainder of my assets is to be divided equally between Hermione and Isabelle. The exceptions are," Sirius paused briefly, "the Black estate in Chelsea goes to Hermione alone, as does my house in Milan. I think that's it."

"Is there any circumstances that would alter the way you would want your estate settled?"

"Yes. In the event that Isabelle remarries, her interest in my estate does not extend to her husband or any children of the marriage as long as the husband is alive. If I have any other children, which at my age is not going to happen, they are to be recognized as additional legal heirs."

"Works for me. Sign here, and here, and we're done."

Ron peered around the doorjamb and into Phillip's office. Sirius picked up a quill, and scribbled his signature at the bottom of the parchment. It was difficult for Ron to get used to seeing Sirius wearing eyeglasses. He rolled up the parchment, and gave it to Phillip.

"Will you send this straight to my vault in London? I don't want Isabelle to know about it, at least not yet. She would think that I'm tempting fate by making a will."

"Yeah, she is superstitious like that," Phillip laughed.

Sirius eyed him thoughtfully. Phillip Spence was exactly the type of man he'd always hoped Isabelle would fall for, and marry. In a perfect world, Isabelle would've married him, and had that house full of kids that she wanted so badly. Two boys and two girls, she always said. That way, everyone always had someone to play with, which was important to her since she was raised more or less as an only child. And he would be the doting godfather, and falling in love with her would be the farthest thought from his mind.

But, in a perfect world, he reminded himself, Isabelle would never have met Phillip Spence. She would have stayed at Hogwarts, and he wouldn't have gone to prison. And what would have happened then? he wondered. Deep in his heart, he knew the answer to the question, but he didn't want to admit it, least of all to himself.

"Thank you, again," Sirius said, snapping himself out of his thoughts.

"Like I said, no problem." He looked at his watch. "I need to rescue Isabelle from the kids in a minute. Didn't realize it was getting so late. Isn't she supposed to go to dinner with you?"

"No, that was last night," he sighed. "That got interrupted by the Stacey crisis."

Phillip shook his head and smiled. "Don't have much luck, huh?"

"No, I don't."

"You really love her, don't you?"

"Yes, I do," Sirius admitted, looking down at his hands.

Ron's jaw dropped open in complete shock. He buried his head in his memo, furiously writing. If it wasn't done in the next ten minutes, they would know for sure that he was eavesdropping on the conversation. And that would be hazardous to his health.

"There's this really small Italian place in London. It's near Abbey Road, and it's her favorite restaurant, mostly because it's really quiet," Phillip said carefully. Sirius looked up, surprised.

"Thanks," he replied slowly, unsure of what to say, exactly. Was he giving him advice on where to take Isabelle on a date?

"Hey, man, it's cool," he laughed at the look on Sirius' face. "Isabelle's my best friend, nothing more. And I'd like to see her happy for a change."

Ron tuned out the conversation, finishing up his footnotes quickly. He scanned the parchment, making minor corrections in the margins. Although it wasn't his best work, he was proud of it nonetheless. He rolled it up, picked up his cloak, and dropped the memo in Phillip's box before leaving the office. Taking the castle steps two at a time, he hurried into the entrance hall. He needed to find Hermione. Finally, he had information that he knew would impress her, he thought with a small smile.

-----

Sirius looked across the table at Isabelle, who was idly tracing the top of her wine glass with her index finger. A small smile flickered across her face, and she bit her lip thoughtfully. 

"What is it?" he asked.

She closed her eyes and sighed happily. "The most wonderful thing in the world – silence." She opened her eyes, reached across the table, and squeezed his hand. "No children, no students, no friends having crises, no talk of a Death Eater attack. Just quiet."

"It is a first, isn't it?" he laughed. She nodded, and let go of his hand.

"This is probably the first evening we've spent completely alone in what, fourteen years?"

"Fourteen and a half, to be exact. And how alone were we then?"

"True. Gracie did rule the roost." Isabelle rolled her eyes. "Not much has changed, has it?"

"Not a thing."

"Wow, we'll have to entertain ourselves for a whole night. No papers to grade tonight, or anything."

"I think we'll manage somehow," Sirius said with a crooked smile.

"How did you know about this restaurant, anyway?" Isabelle asked curiously.

"Phillip suggested it," he answered honestly.

"Oh, so this is a conspiracy? Figures."

"If you call taking you away from the madness that is your life for one night a conspiracy, then I guess it is. I happened to mention something about dinner to Phillip when I was in his office today, so he suggested this restaurant," Sirius defended himself.

"Why were you in his office?" she asked through narrowed eyes.

Stupid, he cursed himself. "Legal stuff."

"Phillip's a lawyer, so I figured that. What legal stuff?"

"Fine. I made a will."

"A will? Why would you need one of those? You're tempting fate, Sirius."

Her face clouded over. Sirius wanted to kick himself for being such an idiot. It took, what, ten minutes for me to ruin the evening? he thought miserably. Luckily, the waiter interrupted them. After placing their orders, Isabelle looked at him and swallowed nervously.

"Well, if we're getting everything out in the open, I haven't been totally honest with you, either. There's a lot I've been hiding from everyone, but you, especially."

"Like what?" Sirius suddenly got an awful feeling in the pit of his stomach. The last time she wasn't being honest, he found out about Malfoy. What else could she possibly be hiding?

"Well, where should I begin? The beginning, of course," she babbled, picking up her wine glass and downing the contents in one gulp. She motioned for the waiter to refill the glass, which he did promptly. After taking a few large sips, she took a deep breath and continued.

"When I was a student at Hogwarts, Ministry officials somehow found out about a certain talent that I possess. And they, more or less, bribed me into working for them as an Unspeakable."

Sirius' jaw dropped. He was a high-ranking Ministry official at the time, and he had no idea. "Bribed you how?"

"The Minister of Magic told me that they had some information on you that would send you to Azkaban for life. And, I knew he was telling the truth, even though I didn't get actual confirmation on what you did until two years later. Anyway, he said as long as I did what I was told, everything would stay quiet."

"Oh, Isabelle. Why didn't you come to me?" he stammered.

"Because they said that someone was always watching me, and if I ever said a word about anything, they would kill me."

"What 'talent' do you have that was so important to the Ministry?" Isabelle traced the pattern of the tablecloth with her finger. "You know you can tell me anything. What did they make you do?"

"I mostly interrogated people and analyzed classified documents. In disguise, of course. And, I'm a – well, a mind reader," she whispered.

"A what?" His head spun.

"Shhh," she hissed, as the waiter brought out their food. "Technically, it's called Discernment. Basically, I'm like a human truth serum. That's the best way I can describe it. And, I can read the thoughts of most people. It's kind of hard to tune them out sometimes."

Sirius had a horrified look on his face, and gulped. Isabelle laughed.

"Don't worry, I haven't been able to read a single thought of yours since I was about thirteen. You're completely unreadable." She winked, as he breathed a huge sigh of relief.

"Anyway, let's jump to the present, or the more immediate past. I magically reappear from the dead, which put the Ministry in a panic, I'm sure. Especially when they find out who my ex-husband is. They didn't exactly treat me well, even though I collected an awful lot of information for them. Too much information for one person to know. So, the Ministry sent a spy to Hogwarts to check up on me, see what I'm up to."

"A spy?" Sirius knew he was sounding like a parrot, but all of this was news to him.

"Yes, Andrew Patil. They must have been watching me constantly to send someone I – point being, it was a good choice. Old boyfriend, at our old school. Very quaint. Quite impressive, really." She laughed ironically.

"And you're dating him?"

"Sirius, I do what I have to do to survive," Isabelle said sharply. "Besides, it's not all bad. He does care for me; sometimes it's worth being around him just to read his guilty conscience."

"But that doesn't make any sense. If the Ministry knows that you can read minds, wouldn't they realize that you'd know you were being spied on?"

"Exactly. Fudge is such an idiot, I swear. When they realized that, the Ministry decided to try another avenue of keeping tabs on me. And, since the Ministry's obsessed with the idea that you're an agent of the Dark Lord, they chose to kill two birds with one stone."

"You don't mean--" his face turned a ghostly shade of white.

"I do. Sara O'Neill is a Ministry spy, and I can prove it."

He looked at her like she had just dropped in from another planet. Sirius motioned for the waiter to come over.

"Bourbon, please. Make that a double, and no ice," he added, dazed. Isabelle watched him down the drink quickly. "Go on."

"Well, remember when we went to Williamsburg?" He nodded. Of course he remembered. "It was a set-up. I purposely made sure the house was completely deserted, figuring that Fudge would have them search the house. Throughout December, I slowly started hiding anything that could be incriminating to either of us under a floorboard in Harry's dormitory. The only thing I left was my photo album from my high school and college years."

"Why that?" Sirius' brow furrowed.

"Because the only thing the album would show is that I went to the beach with Snape when I was sixteen. It was a very specific item for me to target when sifting through someone's thoughts. Also, only an expert charm breaker could've figured out how to open the book. Thought I'd give Andrew a challenge." She shrugged.

"Did they take the bait?"

"Absolutely. It was too easy. Their fingerprints were all over the album."

"Well that's bloody sloppy work."

"Tell me about it." Isabelle rolled her eyes. "And you wouldn't believe the lewd thoughts that Andrew's had about me and my red flowered bikini."

Sirius nearly choked on his tortellini. "Red flowered bikini?"

"Uh-huh. Anyway, the Ministry wants to kill me because they think I'm helping the Dark Lord since they took away what little bit of innocence I had left. Voldemort wants me dead because I know all of the secrets of his band of merry men and he thinks I'm still a Ministry agent. The bounty on my head is enormous, and being Harry's aunt makes me even more hunted. I'm a danger to the family." She hung her head, teary-eyed.

"Isabelle, look at me." She set her jaw and wouldn't look up. He reached across the table and gently lifted up her chin. "None of this is your fault – not a single bit of it. You've been used and exploited by people that you were supposed to be able to trust. No wonder you said that you're a pawn on someone else's chessboard, to be used and discarded at will."

She smiled weakly, surprised that he remembered her words. "Yes, but even a pawn can take down a king, or die trying. I'm not sure which is the greater enemy – Voldemort or the Ministry."

Something clicked in Sirius' head. "That's why you still bother with Malfoy, isn't it? The two of you have some underground survivalist network against both of your enemies, don't you? Quid pro quo…I should've seen it before." She nodded.

"No matter what happens, we'll always share something in common," she said cryptically. "We don't care about ourselves – it's the children. They shouldn't suffer for our sins. Anyway, we try to keep our fat out of the fire, and have a little fun along the way. We keep them chasing their tails most of the time, trying to figure out what's going on. It's hilarious."

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you about Sara before. I wanted concrete proof before I brought it up, and then I got distracted," Isabelle apologized. An evil glint flashed in her eyes, as she dove into a large serving of tiramisu. The only thing she was sorry for is that she waited so long, actually. And that she had to tell him things about her that she really didn't want to, but it was worth it to make him believe her.

"And understandably so." He leaned back in his chair. "You know this makes Hermione at least partially right about her. Which means I'll never hear the end of it."

"Oh, yeah? She's been after me to break up with Andrew for months. I can just see the look on her face now – that triumphant, I-knew-I-was-right look."

"Yes, the completely obnoxious one. You know where she gets it from," Sirius rolled his eyes.

"Hmmm, could it be her wonderful, brilliant Uncle James?" Isabelle asked with a grin.

"Could be," he replied sarcastically.

"We're horrible, criticizing poor Hermione. I mean, we're her par--" her voice broke off.

"Her parents," Sirius finished, thinking. "And that's the way she thinks of us, too. She always has."

"I know. But, I'm afraid I'll never take her mother's place – in more hearts than one."

"It's not a popularity contest, Isabelle," he said quietly.

"I see."

"I don't think you do." Sirius ran his fingers through his hair somewhat nervously before continuing. "It's my fault, because I'm not very good with words, or with saying what's on my mind. Belle, when I was in Azkaban, all I did, all I could do, was think about what I had lost. My wife, daughter, best friend, sister-in-law, and you – all gone. My only focus was revenge for the past. You changed that, Isabelle."

"How so?" she asked, confused.

"You're so full of life, and optimism for the future that it can't help but rub off on everyone you're around. Before you came back into my life, I was a shadow of a man. Barely alive, physically or emotionally. Harry and Hermione knew me as a cynical, pathetic person who existed by eating disgusting things like rats."

"Rats?" Isabelle was horrified.

"Yes. Point being, you were right last July. I was unfit to be anyone's parent – I was barely human, and nearly incapable of any emotion other than hatred and anger. And full of emptiness. You managed to take four virtual strangers and somehow create a family out of us. I had little to do with it. Yes, there will always be a void where the rest of the family should be. But, life goes on, and things do change."

"Not always for the better."

"True, but I can't really imagine my life being any other way." He smiled across the table. "Or having anyone else to share it with."

Isabelle was speechless, and discreetly pinched herself under the table a couple of times to make sure she wasn't dreaming. After reassuring herself that she was indeed awake, she stared at Sirius dumbfounded. Her whole life, she dreamed that he would say exactly those words to her, and now that he had, she didn't know what to say or do.

After a minute passed, Sirius tapped his fingers on the table nervously. He wished that Isabelle could read his thoughts, so that she would know how sincere his words were. There wasn't anyone else that he would rather spend the rest of his life with. But, she must not feel the same way, because she was being awfully quiet. And her face was suddenly very pale.

"Belle, are you alright?" he asked. She looked like she was in some sort of trance, and slowly looked at him with a funny facial expression.

"Fine," she answered blankly. Good job, she thought, dazed. Congratulations on ruining your one chance to tell him how you feel. Her mind raced for some way to salvage the conversation, or at least her dignity.

Completely convinced that he said too much already, Sirius vowed not to bring up the subject of his feelings for her again. Her life was difficult enough without having to deal with her former guardian falling hopelessly in love with her. In fact, it was selfish of him to nearly tell her everything, especially when she was working through the demons of her past. But, he wanted her to know that he loved her no matter what she did, and that she could trust him with anything. Wrong method, he decided, dejected.

Silence hung over the table for the rest of the meal. Isabelle focused on her tiramisu, mainly so that Sirius couldn't see her teary eyes. She made a valiant attempt at finishing the dessert, but found that she lost her appetite. Looking up, she saw Sirius poking at his chocolate cake disinterestedly.

"Finished eating?" he inquired.

She nodded, and he motioned for the waiter to bring the check. After leaving the waiter a substantial tip for recognizing and respecting their desire to have a private meal, they stepped into the cold winter air. Isabelle wrapped her scarf tightly around her head to ward off the biting wind.

"So, where to next?"

Sirius looked at her, puzzled. He assumed that, seeing as dinner was such an incredible success, that she would simply want to go home. "What do you mean?"

"You promised me an entire evening out. It's not even ten o'clock," she replied, linking her arm through his.

"Well, where do you want to go?"

"Anywhere at all. You're the townie – you pick. I'm just a country girl from Dover, remember? What do I know about the big, bad city?" she teased. Sirius laughed.

"Plenty, I'm sure. Certainly more than I do these days. Alright, country girl, what do you say to just walking the city, and seeing what we find?"

"Fine with me." She smiled. Maybe this evening wasn't ruined, after all.

Thinking the exact same thing, Sirius took removed his arm from Isabelle's, wrapped it around her waist, and guided her through the crowded street. He knew this was completely unnecessary, but he felt the compulsive need to protect her somehow. Or at least continue the delusion that he could, at least on some small level, shield her from anything that could be harmful. Even a stray elbow or step on the foot from some careless passerby.

It never ceased to amaze him just how much of her life Isabelle had devoted to him, how much she had sacrificed. Her innocence, for starters. Well, what little was left after her joke of a father and Petunia were finished with her. How could so much have happened to her right under my nose, and why was I so powerless to stop people from hurting her? he wondered.

If he had known what was going on all those years ago, he would have put an end to it immediately. The Ministry had nothing on him, no hard evidence. They intimidated her into doing what they wanted, and she went along with it.

The question, Sirius thought as they made their way through the crowd, was why? Why would she put herself on the line for him? After thinking for a minute, he decided that it didn't matter why. All that mattered is that she went to great lengths to help him throughout her entire life. From the day she came into his life, she was unusually devoted to him.

And there was nothing he could possibly do to repay her for all that she has done for him, no way to even the score. He would always be in her debt. It truly was because of her that he was alive. He tightened his hold on her, remembering how he was about thirty seconds from suicide once, and she unknowingly talked him out of it.

She was his rock, he admitted freely to himself. Without her, he would be completely lost. Part of him wanted to hold her and never let go. But, the other part of him felt guilty for wanting a woman he raised. And that part always kept him from telling her how he felt about her, even as they became progressively closer during the past few weeks.

Which was likely to change, now that Stacey was around again. He got the distinct impression that she wasn't overly fond of him, which wasn't surprising, considering that she was with Snape. It seemed like every time he was close to being with Isabelle, something happened to drive them apart again.

She stopped suddenly in the street. Totally lost in his thoughts, he wasn't paying attention and nearly ran her over. He quickly grabbed her to keep her from falling onto the sidewalk, pulling her into a tight embrace.

"Sorry about that," he whispered in her ear before letting her go.

"That's quite alright," she replied shakily.

"Why'd you stop, anyway?"

Isabelle pointed to a tall brick building. "See that window up there? The second to the right of the fire escape? That's my flat."

"How many homes do you have? Sorry, I mean Harry," he laughed.

"Enough," she answered coyly. "Anyway, I just wanted to show you my London flat. Not exactly a mansion in Chelsea, but it's pretty comfortable."

Sirius rolled his eyes. "I'd love to get rid of that house. Bad memories."

"Then why don't you just sell that house and put the profit in Hermione's trust fund?"

"It was my mum's home before she married my dad, so it's the only tie I have to her." "I didn't know that," she said softly. "If it makes you feel better, I can't get rid of the old house in Dover, even though I haven't set foot in it since we abandoned it. Guess we're a couple of sentimental fools, huh?"

"Guess so," he agreed.

"Anyway, that's where I stay when I'm in town," she said dismissively, and continued walking down the street.

A million different thoughts raced through Isabelle's mind, and most of them centered on Sirius, whose hand was still wrapped tightly around her waist. Not that she minded one bit. In fact, she felt like she was lost in a dream, where she finally got her chance to show him how she felt. A slow smile spread across her face.

"What?" he asked.

"Nothing," she replied.

Nothing except that she had high hopes for the evening. However, she realized that she needed a little help in keeping up her nerve. I've come this far, so I might as well tell him everything, she decided.

Which was easier said than done, so she looked up and down the busy streets for a pub or bar. Any old place would do, as long as it served the liquid courage she so desperately needed. Sirius paused outside a club, and wrinkled his brow, puzzled.

"Where have I heard that music before? It sounds very familiar," he mused.

Isabelle laughed. "Maybe every morning when I'm in the shower? Or, perhaps whenever your kid's around the house, studying? Or, possibly--"

"I get the point. As my kid would say, you're being a prat. So, are you going to tell me who this is, or not?" he interrupted, rolling his eyes.

"Maybe." He glared at her. "Fine, fine. The music is by an American witch, Madonna. Her music is ridiculously popular, even in the Muggle world. It's the fashionable thing these days for huge stars to test out new music in underground clubs. I guess that's what's going on here."

"So, how about it?"

"You're kidding, right?" She looked at him like he had lost his mind.

"Why not?" He shrugged.

After all, if there was one thing he could do, it was dance. Besides, from the brief glimpses he got of the interior of the club, the floor was completely crowded. Which would give him little choice but to dance as closely as humanly possible with her. Hiding a smirk, he adopted a completely innocent, selfless expression.

"I just would've thought that this scene would be a little too – well, young for you," she stammered.

He frowned. Being called old definitely put a damper on his mood. "No, it's not, thank you very much. And, if I remember correctly, Madonna is close to my age. So, there."

"How can you remember that, but not her name?"

"Guess it's old age creeping up on me," he answered sarcastically. "Are you coming, or what?"

"Um, just how do you plan on getting into the club? It's by invitation only," she pointed out.

Sirius closed his eyes briefly, trying not to lose his temper. He loved her, but she knew exactly which buttons to push to make him angry, whether she tried to or not. It truly was a talent, he decided.

"I'm the richest man in the world. I go wherever I want," he said through clenched teeth.

Isabelle raised her eyebrow skeptically as he went to talk to the bouncer. A minute later, he motioned for her to follow him into the hazy, smoke-filled club.

"Fine, so you win," she admitted, muscling her way to the bar.

"What do you want?" the bartender asked, eying her up and down.

She ordered a drink, downing it quickly. Immediately feeling its effects, Isabelle wrapped her arms around Sirius' neck provocatively. Encouraged by the fact that he didn't exactly pull away, she began dancing like in her dreams about him, singing along with "Cherish".

_So tired of broken hearts and losing at this game   
Before I start this dance   
I take a chance in telling you   
I want more than just romance   
You are my destiny, I can't let go baby can't you see   
Cupid please take your aim at me _

Truer words were never sung, she thought, spinning around the floor. She was always happiest when dancing or with Sirius. Having both at the same time was nothing short of heaven.

But, this was not a fantasy, she reminded herself. And the night had to end sometime. Thinking about that caused her to run for the bar again for fortitude. Sirius gave her a concerned look, but didn't say anything. Isabelle was a grown woman, and he needed to treat her as such. Especially since his current mindset towards her was anything but innocent or platonic.

"How are you doing out there?" Madonna shouted to the crowd, who enthusiastically cheered and applauded. "I'd like to change the pace a little. This song is a part of the soundtrack to the movie A League of Their Own, and it's called 'This Used to Be My Playground'. Hope you like it."

"This is my absolute favorite song by her," Isabelle gasped. The music swept her away as she rested her head on Sirius' shoulder, closing her eyes to listen better.

_This used to be my playground   
This used to be my childhood dream   
This used to be the place I ran to   
Whenever I was in need   
Of a friend   
Why did it have to end   
And why do they always say _

_Don't look back   
Keep your head held high   
Don't ask them why   
Because life is short   
And before you know   
You're feeling old   
And your heart is breaking   
Don't hold on to the past   
Well that's too much to ask _

Their earlier conversation flashed through Sirius' head. The song perfectly echoed his and Isabelle's feelings about the past, even as they tried to live fully in the present. And create a future – together he hoped. He didn't know whether that was wishful thinking or not, so he forced those thoughts out of his head and concentrated on the song.

_But I wish that you   
Were here with me   
Well then there's hope yet   
I can see your face   
In our secret place   
You're not just a memory   
Say goodbye to yesterday   
Those are words I'll never say _

_This used to be my playground   
This used to be our pride and joy   
This used to be the place we ran to   
That no one in the world could dare destroy _

_This used to be our playground   
This used to be our childhood dream   
This used to be the place we ran to   
I wish you were standing here with me _

"You know what place this song reminds me of?" Isabelle asked quietly.

"The old fort in Dover," he answered immediately. She nodded, with her head still resting on his shoulder.

"The one place you belonged to me, and only me. No one else even knew it existed," she said. She picked up her head and looked him in the eye. "Do you know how much I love you?"

"What?" Sirius was shocked. What was she talking about?

"I said, do you know how much I love you?" she slurred, tripping over her high-heeled shoe.

"Isabelle, you've had too much to drink," he said, angry with himself.

"I have not. How dare you say that?"

"Belle, I've never, ever seen you trip like you just did. Come on, let's go to your apartment down the street."

"But--" she protested, knowing that he would insist on seeing her home. And there was no way he'd take her home to Hogsmeade because heaven forbid the children see her in such a state. She grinned internally; her little tripping routine worked perfectly.

"I really think you need to sleep this off," he said, concerned.

Isabelle allowed Sirius to lead her off the dance floor, retrieve her cloak, and walk her to her flat. He opened the door, and flipped on the light in the living room.

"Where's your bedroom?" he asked.

"Third on the left," she replied, pretending to fall so that he would carry her the rest of the way to her room. Which, of course, he did, gently placing her on the bed.

"Don't leave," she whispered softly.

"I, uh, don't understand."

"Maybe this would help your comprehension." She pulled him down to her level and kissed him passionately.

"Isa--" Sirius feebly attempted to protest, losing himself in her embrace for a minute. "This isn't right. This isn't really you talking. Even if you really meant what you said, it shouldn't be like this. You mean more to me than a random one-night stand that you won't even remember in the morning. I don't want us to make a decision that we'll regret for the rest of our lives."

"How noble of you," she huffed, turning away from him.

"I'm not noble. You have no idea how difficult this is," he admitted. "Isabelle?"

There was no answer. Sirius sat up and carefully brushed her hair out of her face. She was sound asleep. He stood up slowly, trying not to disturb her and quietly left her bedroom.


	20. Chapter 19: Unedited Ending

**Author's Note: **So we've come to another one of those scenes that had to be edited for the HP boards. I'd rate this a PG-15 for mild sexuality & adult content. (Sorry, "adult content" always amuses me. What is that, exactly? Whatever it is, this scene has it. I'm the author, & I say so.)

"Cherish" & "This Used to be My Playground" still belong to Madonna, Isabelle still belongs to me, & the HP characters belong to JKR. So, basically everything's quite normal. Enjoy the scene...

* * *

**Chapter 19: Unedited Ending**

She stopped suddenly in the street. Totally lost in his thoughts, he wasn't paying attention and nearly ran her over. He quickly grabbed her to keep her from falling onto the sidewalk, pulling her into a tight embrace.

"Sorry about that," he whispered in her ear before letting her go.

"That's quite alright," she replied shakily.

"Why'd you stop, anyway?"

Isabelle pointed to a tall brick building. "See that window up there? The second to the right of the fire escape? That's my flat."

"How many homes do you have? Sorry, I mean Harry," he laughed.

"Enough," she answered coyly. "Anyway, I just wanted to show you my London flat. Not exactly a mansion in Chelsea, but it's pretty comfortable."

Sirius rolled his eyes. "I'd love to get rid of that house. Bad memories."

"Then why don't you just sell that house and put the profit in Hermione's trust fund?"

"It was my mum's home before she married my dad, so it's the only tie I have to her."

"I didn't know that," she said softly. "If it makes you feel better, I can't get rid of the old house in Dover, even though I haven't set foot in it since we abandoned it. Guess we're a couple of sentimental fools, huh?"

"Guess so," he agreed.

"Anyway, that's where I stay when I'm in town," she said dismissively, and continued walking down the street.

A million different thoughts raced through Isabelle's mind, and most of them centered on Sirius, whose hand was still wrapped tightly around her waist. Not that she minded one bit. In fact, she felt like she was lost in a dream, where she finally got her chance to show him how she felt. A slow smile spread across her face.

"What?" he asked.

"Nothing," she replied.

Nothing except that she had high hopes for the evening. However, she realized that she needed a little help in keeping up her nerve. I've come this far, so I might as well tell him everything, she decided.

Which was easier said than done, so she looked up and down the busy streets for a pub or bar. Any old place would do, as long as it served the liquid courage she so desperately needed. Sirius paused outside a club, and wrinkled his brow, puzzled.

"Where have I heard that music before? It sounds very familiar," he mused.

Isabelle laughed. "Maybe every morning when I'm in the shower? Or, perhaps whenever your kid's around the house, studying? Or, possibly--"

"I get the point. As my kid would say, you're being a prat. So, are you going to tell me who this is, or not?" he interrupted, rolling his eyes.

"Maybe." He glared at her. "Fine, fine. The music is by an American witch, Madonna. Her music is ridiculously popular, even in the Muggle world. It's the fashionable thing these days for huge stars to test out new music in underground clubs. I guess that's what's going on here."

"So, how about it?"

"You're kidding, right?" She looked at him like he had lost his mind.

"Why not?" He shrugged.

After all, if there was one thing he could do, it was dance. Besides, from the brief glimpses he got of the interior of the club, the floor was completely crowded. Which would give him little choice but to dance as closely as humanly possible with her. Hiding a smirk, he adopted a completely innocent, selfless expression.

"I just would've thought that this scene would be a little too – well, _young_ for you," she stammered.

He frowned. Being called old definitely put a damper on his mood. "No, it's not, thank you very much. And, if I remember correctly, Madonna is close to my age. So, there."

"How can you remember that, but not her name?"

"Guess it's old age creeping up on me," he answered sarcastically. "Are you coming, or what?"

"Um, just how do you plan on getting into the club? It's by invitation only," she pointed out.

Sirius closed his eyes briefly, trying not to lose his temper. He loved her, but she knew exactly which buttons to push to make him angry, whether she tried to or not. It truly was a talent, he decided.

"I'm the richest man in the world. I go wherever I want," he said through clenched teeth.

Isabelle raised her eyebrow skeptically as he went to talk to the bouncer. A minute later, he motioned for her to follow him into the hazy, smoke-filled club.

"Fine, so you win," she admitted, muscling her way to the bar.

"What do you want?" the bartender asked, eying her up and down.

"A triple shot of Jose Cuervo for me, and a double for my friend here," she answered, pointing to Sirius.

"Isn't that a bit much?" She stared angrily at him. He threw up his hands. "Alright, sorry."

"Thank you," she said, downing the tequila in a quick gulp.

Then, she asked for the worm from the bottle, deciding to show off one of her hidden talents. Sirius watched her in amazement. He didn't know that a person could do that with a worm. A cherry stem, sure – he'd seen that one a million times. The temperature of the room suddenly shot up about ten degrees, as she winked and led him to the dance floor.

Feeling the effects of the tequila, Isabelle wrapped her arms around his neck provocatively. Encouraged by the fact that he didn't exactly pull away, she began dancing like in her dreams about him, singing along with "Cherish".

_So tired of broken hearts and losing at this game   
Before I start this dance  
I take a chance in telling you  
I want more than just romance  
You are my destiny, I can't let go baby can't you see  
Cupid please take your aim at me _

Truer words were never sung, she thought, spinning around the floor. She was always happiest when dancing or with Sirius. Having both at the same time was nothing short of heaven.

But, this was not a fantasy, she reminded herself. And the night had to end sometime. Thinking about that caused her to run for the bar again for fortitude. Sirius gave her a concerned look, but didn't say anything. Isabelle was a grown woman, and he needed to treat her as such. Especially since his current mindset towards her was anything but innocent or platonic.

"How are you doing out there?" Madonna shouted to the crowd, who enthusiastically cheered and applauded. "I'd like to change the pace a little. This song is a part of the soundtrack to the movie _A League of Their Own_, and it's called 'This Used to Be My Playground'. Hope you like it."

"This is my absolute favorite song by her," Isabelle gasped. The music swept her away as she rested her head on Sirius' shoulder, closing her eyes to listen better.

_This used to be my playground   
This used to be my childhood dream  
This used to be the place I ran to  
Whenever I was in need  
Of a friend  
Why did it have to end  
And why do they always say _

_Don't look back  
Keep your head held high  
Don't ask them why  
Because life is short  
And before you know  
You're feeling old  
And your heart is breaking  
Don't hold on to the past  
Well that's too much to ask _

Their earlier conversation flashed through Sirius' head. The song perfectly echoed his and Isabelle's feelings about the past, even as they tried to live fully in the present. And create a future – together he hoped. He didn't know whether that was wishful thinking or not, so he forced those thoughts out of his head and concentrated on the song.

_But I wish that you  
Were here with me  
Well then there's hope yet  
I can see your face  
In our secret place  
You're not just a memory  
Say goodbye to yesterday   
Those are words I'll never say _

_This used to be my playground   
This used to be our pride and joy  
This used to be the place we ran to  
That no one in the world could dare destroy _

_This used to be our playground   
This used to be our childhood dream  
This used to be the place we ran to  
I wish you were standing here with me _

"You know what place this song reminds me of?" Isabelle asked quietly.

"The old fort in Dover," he answered immediately. She nodded, with her head still resting on his shoulder.

"The one place you belonged to me, and only me. No one else even knew it existed," she said. She picked up her head and looked him in the eye. "Do you know how much I love you?"

"What?" Sirius was shocked. What was she talking about?

"I said, do you know how much I love you?" she slurred, tripping over her high-heeled shoe.

"Isabelle, you're drunk," he said, angry with himself. Seven shots of Jose Cuervo was enough to knock anyone on their rear, especially someone as tiny as she was.

"I am not. How dare you say that?"

"Belle, I've never, ever seen you trip like you just did. Come on, let's go to your apartment down the street."

"But--" she protested, knowing that he would insist on seeing her home. And there was no way he'd take her home to Hogsmeade because heaven forbid the children see her in such a state. She grinned internally; her little tripping routine worked perfectly.

"I really think you need to sleep this off," he said, concerned.

Isabelle allowed Sirius to lead her off the dance floor, retrieve her cloak, and walk her to her flat. He opened the door, and flipped on the light in the living room.

"Where's your bedroom?" he asked.

"Third room on the left," she replied, pretending to fall so that he would carry her the rest of the way to her room. Which, of course, he did, gently placing her on the bed.

"Don't leave," she whispered softly.

"I, uh, don't understand."

"Maybe this would help your comprehension." She pulled him down to her level and kissed him passionately.

"Isa--" Sirius feebly attempted to protest, losing himself in her embrace.

All he wanted to do was to give into his desire for her. With every kiss and touch, his willpower quickly faded. She was simply irresistible. And he was a man, not a saint, he reminded himself. And the man in him willingly responded to her advances. There was only so long that he could bottle up his feelings. At least that's how he justified his actions.

"Make love to me," she murmured in his ear.

"What?" He suddenly felt like he was in an alternate reality.

"Why, are you incapable?"

He blinked. "Of course I'm capable, believe me. Why would you ask that question?"

"Well, unless something's happened that I'm not aware of, you're a little – out of practice. As in your last time was around the same time period as my first time."

"Thanks, Belle." He couldn't believe she actually said that. Not that he debated the truthfulness of her words, but still. It was a good thing the room was mostly dark, because he was sure that his face was a violent shade of red.

"Don't be embarrassed, Sirius. It's me, remember? I know you better than anyone else, even things you don't think I know."

"Like what?" He knew he would regret asking the question, but he figured that his humiliation level couldn't possibly get any worse.

"Like that you have a tattoo of a dragon in an interesting location of your body that you got when you were drunk out of your mind during your seventh year at Hogwarts."

Wrong, he thought, as his face burned. How did she know that? More importantly, how could she know that – it wasn't exactly in a location that saw sunlight frequently. After a minute, he decided that he didn't want to know how she found out that piece or information.

"My point is that I know everything about you, and I'm desperately in love with you. I have been ever since I can remember. Can you honestly tell me you feel nothing for me – that you don't love me?"

"Of course I love you. And I want you worse than you could possibly imagine. But--"

"There's always a but, isn't there?" she said bitterly, drawing the comforter around her tightly.

"This isn't right. It's the tequila talking, Isabelle, not you. Even if you really meant what you said, it shouldn't be like this. You mean more to me than a random one-night stand that you won't even remember in the morning. I don't want us to make a decision that we'll regret for the rest of our lives."

"How noble of you," she huffed, turning away from him.

"I'm not noble. You have no idea how hard – uh, difficult – this is," he admitted, wincing at his Freudian slip. "Isabelle?"

There was no answer. Sirius sat up and carefully brushed her hair out of her face. She was sound asleep – passed out from the alcohol, he decided. He stood up slowly, trying not to disturb her and quietly left her bedroom. He needed a long, ice cold shower before even thinking about going to sleep.


	21. Chapter 20

**Chapter 20**

Sirius walked down the lakeshore to think. His mind was filled with way too many thoughts, and he needed some time alone to sort everything out. Not the least of which was turning forty-one years old today. Forty-one – it seemed so old, he thought, as he mentally processed the number.

Isabelle had gone all out for his birthday, enlisting the help of the Weasleys. Putting their minds together, she, Hermione, Harry, Remus and the five Weasleys invented pranks and practical jokes that _he_ had never thought of. Which was quite an impressive feat, considering. Isabelle's excuse was that since she missed this thirtieth and fortieth birthdays, and that he had the courtesy of making her thirtieth birthday so eventful, she was only returning the favor.

It was nice to see her smile and laugh, he thought, frowning. Ever since they went to dinner – and back to her apartment – that night, she had been a little formal and distant. The next morning, she stumbled into the kitchen clutching her head, claiming that she didn't remember a thing past getting into the club. But, she was an excellent actress, as he knew all too well. She didn't like to talk about her feelings, or things that happened to her in the past. And that was the heart of the problem.

"Hiding, birthday boy?" Remus teased in a singsong voice, sitting down beside him.

"Yup."

"From the family or all the happy couples?"

"Both," Sirius laughed. Shortly after his date with Isabelle, he broke up with Sara, careful to remain friends. A Ministry spy as an enemy is never good.

"Well, being single isn't all that bad, is it?"

"It is when every other member of your family, even your child, has a more exciting love life than you do," he replied sourly. "Especially when you're in love with someone and can't do a damn thing about it."

Sirius reached into his cloak pocket, pulled out a small box, and passed it to Remus. He opened it, and whistled through his teeth.

"Breaking out the family jewels, I see," he joked. "Nice ring, but where is it? The thing's tiny – what size is this, anyway?"

"Four and three quarters," he said evenly.

Remus' face paled, as he turned the ring over in the palm of his hand nervously. He peered into the ring, trying to make out the inscription. "I John 4:18a? What in the heck is that?"

"It's a Bible verse Abuela taught me when I was little. The verse says 'En el amor no hay temor, sino que el perfecto amor echa fuera el temor'."

"Ok, not everyone is Spanish, so could you please give me the English translation of that?"

Sirius rolled his eyes. "There is no fear in love, for perfect love drives out fear."

"And Isabelle, also being a good Catholic, would know that verse?" Remus asked.

"Of course she would. I taught it to her when she was ten. She had a nightmare, and ran off in the middle of the night. Light sleeper that I am, she woke me up, so I found her sobbing her heart out. I asked her what was wrong, and she said that she was scared, and I asked her of what. She said everyone. I told her she had nothing to be afraid of because we all loved her. And then she said that when people say that they love her, that's when they hurt her." He paused for a minute. "I'll never forget that as long as I live."

"What did she mean by that?"

"I'm not entirely sure. I have my suspicions, but Isabelle isn't exactly willing to talk about any of it. Anyway, I said that if anyone made her afraid or hurt her, they didn't really love her. She didn't have to be afraid of any of us because we loved her. Since then, whenever I think of her, that verse always comes to mind."

"So, do you love her?"

Sirius thought that an odd question, considering that he was sitting there with a ring. "Too much. She is the thorn in my side, to use another Biblical metaphor."

"And she calls you the god of her idolatry."

"Does she really?" He couldn't help but smile. What was it with him and literary women?

"Yeah. You know she loves you. She told you as much recently, I heard," Remus said with an evil smile.

"She told you about that? I thought she didn't remember that night at all."

"Oh, she remembers every last word that was spoken. Most of all, she remembers that you turned her down flat."

"Let me guess. She didn't really pass out, either."

"Nope. Cried herself to sleep, humiliated."

"How could she remember a thing? I've seen grown men knocked out from drinking less than she did."

"What can I say? The woman's a fish. Oh, and I heard she showed you her little tequila talent," Remus winked knowingly.

"Yeah, that was _nice_," Sirius said, a little too enthusiastically. "Didn't know anyone could actually do that, but I'm telling you what, that drove me crazy."

"Ok, what I don't understand is that she loves you and you obviously love her, why aren't you together?"

"Because Isabelle doesn't have a healthy attitude towards men. If I had any sense whatsoever, I'd have kept my hands off her."

"I don't understand." Remus furrowed his brow.

"I don't understand all of it, myself. Especially, like I said before, she won't talk. What I do know for sure is that someone hurt her really badly, someone she trusted."

"Who?"

"I'd rather not say, since I'm not totally positive. Point being, this person was an authority figure to her. And, deep down, she's just a hurt little girl looking for someone to tell her everything's going to be all right."

"Was this before or after she went to America?" he asked, livid. He could think of a few nasty things he'd like to do to anyone who hurt her.

"Again, I'd rather not say. But, the abuse shows most clearly, to me, anyway, in her relationships with men. Other than a couple boyfriends in school, every man she's been with has been significantly older than her – at least four years older. And, in some position of authority over her. Also, she has a tendency of throwing herself at men, at least physically."

Remus was shocked. "No wonder you turned her down."

"Yep. I'm the ultimate in authority figures to her. You said it yourself – I'm the god of her idolatry. I can't figure out whether she genuinely loves me, in a normal, healthy sense. Isabelle is so messed up that I'm not even sure she knows what's going on in her brain. I'm such a selfish, thoughtless idiot for what I did to her over Christmas," Sirius cursed himself.

"Wait a minute here. All you did was kiss her. Big deal."

"Does she tell you everything?" Sirius asked, exasperated. Remus shrugged. "May I remind you of who she is – the baby sister of my sister-in-law?"

"As you've noticed, the baby sister grew up. Kids do that. And, not to be harsh, but Lily's dead, and has been for a very long time. It's hard to be judgmental from the grave. Things are very different than they were back then."

"But--"

"But what? She's a grown woman, problems or not. It seems to me that even if she doesn't have the healthiest outlook on a relationship with you, she still loves you the best way that she can. And, what would be better – turning her down so that she can fall into another self-destructive, abusive relationship?"

"That's the bottom line, isn't it? I wish I could protect her from being hurt again from anyone, including herself. I just want to make her happy. Why are things so complicated?"

"Why are you so daft? I've spent the last half hour telling you that this isn't complicated at all. One more time, and maybe it'll sink into your stubborn skull: You love each other and want to be together. Everyone wants the two of you to be together. Well, except for Snape and that really grumpy woman who follows him around, yelling." Remus waived his hand dismissively. "Hey, that's sort of a bonus – you get the girl and irritate Snape at the same time."

"Second time around," Sirius mumbled under his breath. "The hard part is finding the time to talk to Isabelle. Stacey's like a chaperone or something. Whenever I'm within five feet of Belle, she suddenly appears from nowhere."

"Isn't your bedroom next to hers?" he asked sensibly.

"Yes, but Stacey's staying with her since she had a fight with Snape last week. You know that."

"Sorry, forgot. You're just shut out, aren't you?" Remus laughed.

"Shut up. This really isn't funny," Sirius said through clenched teeth.

A blur flashed in between them, nearly landing in Sirius' lap. Isabelle flattened herself against the ground dramatically and put her hands over her head.

"You do not see me. I do not exist," she said in a hypnotizing voice.

"Valentine's Day blues?" Sirius asked, with a small smile. Where did she get so much energy? Must be the ten-year age gap, he decided.

"You have no idea, birthday boy," she grumbled, propping her head on her elbows.

"Well, I guess I should be going," Remus said, giving Sirius a wicked grin.

"I didn't chase you off with my negative energy or anything, did I?" She frowned.

"No, I actually have a date."

"Who's the unfortunate victim?" she teased.

"Real cute. Diane from the Three Broomsticks, if you must know."

"Again? She's a real glutton for punishment," Sirius laughed.

"No, she just knows a good thing when she sees it."

"Or maybe she's had one too many and isn't picky."

"You're lucky I'm in a good mood, Isabelle, or I'd have a few choice words for you."

"Oooooh, scary," she said in a spooky voice.

He gave her a poisonous look. "Goodnight, kids. Have fun."

"So, why don't you exist?" Sirius asked Isabelle, laughing at the pained look on her face. She really had a flair for the dramatic.

"First of all, I think I have a sign tattooed on my forehead saying, 'Hey, please ask my advice on what to do for my significant other for Valentine's Day'. Let me see…Harry asked three times whether taking Ginny to the prefects' bathroom for a midnight swim was a bit presumptuous."

"Nice choice. Fond memories of that place," he said, nodding his head in approval.

"Likewise," she replied with an evil grin that widened when Sirius frowned. "Anyway, I told him that he's a fifteen year-old boy – of course he's being presumptuous. Then, there's the Ron and Hermione saga."

"What Ron and Hermione saga?" He raised an eyebrow.

"Better let her tell you. Then there's Neville, who really doesn't have a clue about women, poor boy. And, Draco's about to drive me insane."

"Draco?"

"Yes," she said sourly, "Draco. Ever since his mum got put in the sanitarium, he's kind of adopted me. Says that I'm his 'Mummy Number Two', so that's what he calls me. Number Two. Thinks he's clever."

Although he knew that Isabelle had something to do with all of that, Sirius didn't ask questions or comment. There were some aspects of her life that he really didn't want to know about sometimes. And Malfoy was one of them. No matter how he tried, he couldn't get used to the idea that she was romantically involved with trash like Malfoy.

"So, he shows up at my office yesterday asking what he should do for Cho for Valentine's Day. Then I tastefully remind him that he stole her from my nephew at the Christmas Ball, and that he has a lot of nerve asking me that question. You won't believe what he says next."

I'd believe anything coming out of the mouth of that child, Sirius thought. "What?"

"He says, 'Well, what did my father do for you, because that sure worked.' Can you imagine? To which I reply, 'Draco, he got me out of prison.' The little prat. So, I told him to ask his father, the relationship expert, what to do, and sent him on his way." Isabelle noticed the ring box on the ground where Remus had placed it. "What's that?"

"Uh, a birthday present for Hermione," he lied, quickly picking up the box and stuffing it into his cloak. He felt terrible for lying, but this wasn't exactly his ideal place or time to propose. Especially since she had no idea how he felt about her.

"Really? Advanced planning, I'm impressed. What is it?" she asked, eyes lighting up.

"It's a surprise." Oh no, Sirius thought. Those were like the magic words to Isabelle – like waiving a red flag in front of a bull. No way she'd let the subject drop now.

"What kind of surprise?"

She was so excited that he almost passed the box over to her. No, he decided with a small smile, that just might give her a heart attack. "The kind that I'll show you later when it's finished."

He held his breath, hoping she would leave it at that. Luckily, she believed him, which made him feel even guiltier because she trusted him.

Isabelle leaned back on the cool grass, looking straight up into the sky. She sighed, covering her eyes with her arm.

"What's going on?" Sirius asked. It was unlike her to suddenly get so quiet.

"Nothing," she said unconvincingly.

"Liar."

"It's everything, and nothing at the same time. My life is such a mess, Sirius. There's no stability in it whatsoever, and anyone I love, well--"

"Dies." She nodded.

"Or ends up permanently emotionally scarred. I'm relationship kryptonite," she lamented. "What's so funny?"

"Relationship kryptonite? Where on earth did you get that one from?" he laughed.

"From someone I am no longer friends with, the hypocrite," she said sharply.

"Whoa! Sorry I asked."

She rolled over on her side, propping her head on an elbow. "Sorry for being so down. It's just that seeing all of these happy couples walking around on Valentine's Day only serves to remind me that I'm incapable of having a normal relationship."

The look on her face broke Sirius' heart. "Isabelle, you're not incapable. There are plenty of guys who would give anything to be with you."

"Like who?" she snorted.

Like me, he thought. "Like any guy who's ever heard you laugh at a corny joke, or cry at a sappy movie you've seen a thousand times and know by heart. Or seen the way you lose yourself when you dance, or danced with you, for that matter. Basically, any guy with eyes who's spent at least five seconds around you. Isabelle, I--"

"Yes?" Her heart was in her throat.

"Professor Black!" a voice shouted from behind them.

"What is it, Fred?" he said through clenched teeth.

Fred Weasley looked from Sirius to Isabelle and back again, slowly realizing what he must've interrupted. And that he wasn't really on Sirius' good list ever since Christmas, anyway, he remembered. He gulped.

"Uh, Professor Dumbledore wanted me to tell you that he wants to meet you in his office right away," he babbled.

"Did he tell you why?"

"Yes. Something about a Death Eater attack in Brighton. He wants to see you, too, Professor Evans."

"Brighton?" she asked, paling. "Are you sure, Fred?"

"Yes, why?"

"No reason. Will you go tell Professor Dumbledore we'll be there right away?"

"Sure." He ran off, glad to get away from Sirius' piercing stare.

"What's the big deal?" he asked Isabelle.

"The big deal is that the only wizarding family that lives in Brighton are the Malfoys. I know that for a fact. This can only mean one thing, which is that Sergei is figuring things out. He must be angry that Lucius and I got the best of him earlier this month. And, it's just a matter of time before he finds out the rest," she answered ominously. "Didn't I tell you I was relationship kryptonite?"

-----

"Stephen, you're too close to the water. Please come back here." The little boy didn't listen, stepping even closer to the lake's edge. "Stephen Thomas Parker, get back here now!" 

His blonde, curly-haired head whipped around instantly. "Sorry, Aunt Isabelle. Didn't hear you."

"You heard me loud and clear. Now get up here before we have to go back to the house."

Sensing a serious threat, he scampered up the hill and plopped down next to Abbie, sulking. She took a handful of dirt and rubbed it in his face, laughing.

"Abbie, that wasn't nice," Isabelle told her absentmindedly. "Apologize."

"Sorry, Stephen," she said dutifully.

"Thank you. Ready to head to the match, Phillip?"

He stretched and yawned. The stress of the past few months was beginning to take a toll on him. "Whenever you are."

"Are we going to a _real_ Quiddich match?" Stephen drawled excitedly.

"Sure are," Isabelle replied, trying to hide a smile.

It was nice to see him so enthusiastic about something, she thought. Before the attack on his parents, he was like a human tornado. Although he wasn't up to his former energy level, this was a start. She made a mental note to thank Harry and Ron for all the hours they put into playing with him and teaching him Quiddich.

"Is Harry playing?"

"Yep," she said.

"And Ron?"

"Yep."

"Cool." He grinned.

Isabelle turned to Phillip, who looked like he was about to keel over any second. "Hey, why don't you go home and get some rest," she told him sympathetically.

"No, I'm fine, honestly," he replied, rubbing his temples.

She looked at him skeptically. "I know what it's like to lose your whole family in the blink of an eye, so I know you're not fine. Go on, take the day off. I'll bring the kids by your house in the morning, ok?"

"Thanks." He smiled at her gratefully, and kneeled down to the children's level. "I don't feel very good, so I'm going home for a little while. Will you be ok going to the match and spending the night with Aunt Isabelle?"

Abbie nodded, and hugged him goodbye. "Feel better, Uncle Phillip."

"I will."

"Woo-hoo!" Stephen hollered. "Is Harry going to be at the house tonight?"

"I don't know, but we can ask him," Isabelle laughed.

"Well, I'll see y'all tomorrow," Phillip said, and walked off towards Hogsmeade.

"So, would y'all like to go to the pitch and get our seats for the match?" Isabelle asked.

"Yes!" Stephen said, running up the hill.

Not to be outdone, Abbie took off after him, and the two raced to the entrance of the pitch. Students were milling around, chatting and heading for the stands. Suddenly shy, Abbie clung to Isabelle's legs, wanting to be picked up. She scooped up the little girl, and held Stephen's hand as they walked around the pitch.

"Hey, Professor Evans!" Angelina Johnson called out from the sidelines.

"Hey, yourself," she replied, walking towards where she was standing.

"Are you a real Quiddich player?" Stephen asked in awe, staring at her broom and equipment.

"Sure am," she replied, smiling at Isabelle. Fred walked up, slapping Stephen high five.

"You're not stealing my girl, are you?" Fred asked in a mock serious tone. He shook his head violently. "Good, glad we got that straight."

"What's going on, mate?" Harry asked the little boy.

"Ready to see you beat Slytherin, that's what," he replied, narrowing his eyes at their stands.

"You and me both."

"Are you going to be at the house tonight?"

"I don't know," he answered slowly. Harry looked at his hopeful face, and got an idea. "I need to find something out first."

He leaned over, and whispered in Isabelle's ear. She nodded. Harry walked over to where Ron was warming up. After a minute, he motioned for Stephen to join them.

"Sorry, we're not going to be at the house tonight," Harry said, watching Stephen's face fall.

"But, neither are you," Ron added.

"What do you mean?" he asked, puzzled.

"Well, we Gryffindors always have a party after we win a match. And, since we're planning to win, we don't want to miss it. How would you like to party with us tonight in the dorm?"

Stephen looked at Harry like Christmas had just come early. "Beyond cool."

"Alright, come on, before all the good seats get taken," Isabelle said, walking up behind them and leading the children up the stands.

Abbie clung to Isabelle as she peered over the side of the tall tower, looking at the small figures below on the ground. Stephen leaned over fearlessly, gaping at the scene.

"Did you play Quiddich here, Aunt Isabelle?" he asked.

"I was supposed to, but I came to America and went to school with your parents instead."

"Oh." He sat on the bench, thinking. "Do you miss them?"

"All the time."

"I miss them, too. And M.J and Rose. Carrie, too. And Uncle Thomas and Aunt Sarah Lindsay. But, mostly M.J. She was my best friend."

Isabelle wrapped her arm around the little boy, who leaned against her sadly. "I miss my big sister, too. She was my best friend."

Stephen looked up. "Is that Harry's mom?"

"Sure is." She hugged Stephen tightly. "Us orphans have to stick together, right?"

"Right," he said with determination.

Isabelle looked into the sky, where Draco was doing some last-minute flying practice. She covertly signaled for him to fly over. With an incredibly bored look on his face, he flew over to where she was seated.

"You rang, wicked stepmother?" he asked snidely.

"Yes, evil child. I just wanted to thank you," she replied with a smirk.

"For?"

"For the fifty galleons I'm going to win from your father when my nephew beats the pants off you in this match."

"Do what? Keep dreaming."

She snorted. "Please. I've looked up the stats. You don't stand a chance against Harry."

Draco's eyes flashed fire. "We'll see. I'd think that you'd be more loyal to your own kind, Mommy dearest."

"Blood is thicker, sweetheart." She winked. "Oh, and I win a hundred galleons if Harry gets the snitch in five minutes or less."

"Now that's just insulting. I would say something, but I don't want to hurt sensitive ears," he sneered.

"How thoughtful of you, Draco," Isabelle said sarcastically.

"I'm just a thoughtful kind of guy. If you would please excuse me, I have a match to play against your precious nephew. Oh, sorry – the five minute miracle man."

Before she could reply, Draco took off to the center of the pitch. Isabelle had to admit his parting remark was quite witty, even if it was completely uncalled for.

"Welcome to the most anticipated match of the year, first-place Gryffindor versus second-place, and rightly so, Slytherin!" Lee Jordan projected, as the team captains flew to the center of the pitch and began the match. The Slytherin stands booed at his comment, which caused the Gryffindor stands to scream louder. Stephen looked at Isabelle, concerned, as the stands began to sway.

"Don't worry. They won't fall – they're designed to move like this," she reassured him.

He smiled and focused on the match. Isabelle looked to her left, watching Ginny Weasley gingerly sit down alone.

"Ginny – would you like to come sit with us?" she called out.

"Sure, thanks," she replied gratefully.

"Hey, Virginia," Stephen greeted her distractedly. Abbie smiled and crawled into her lap. Ginny wrinkled her nose.

"He spends way too much time with Harry," she laughed. She lowered her voice. "Stephen says that he likes to call me Virginia because that's where he's from, and it reminds him of home. So, I let him."

Isabelle smiled. "Y'all are really great to these kids. You have no idea how much I appreciate it."

"Well, Harry's big on family," she said lightly. Her eyes clouded over, which did not go unnoticed by Isabelle.

"Speaking of, where's Hermione?" Isabelle asked, somewhat puzzled.

"Hermione's not coming to the match," she said as evenly as possible, considering that she was about to lose her temper. "She and my brother had a fight this morning because she was bringing Krum. So, she said that she wouldn't come at all, then."

Isabelle saw at the pure anger in the girl's eyes. "She really shouldn't treat Ron that way. In fact, it's quite childish and petty."

Ginny looked at Isabelle wide-eyed. Did she just insult her own family? Sensing an opportunity to vent, and hoping it was appropriate to do so, she took a deep breath and continued.

"Hermione's just playing my brother, and he lets her! I can't stand watching it. They'll fight for days, and then randomly hook up. Oh, but they aren't 'sure of their feelings', so they break up again. Then, Ron'll go snog some girl for spite, which ticks Hermione off, so she brings Krum around and throws him in Ron's face."

"What does Harry think about all this?"

"Harry defends Hermione! I can't say a thing against her, or it turns into a huge fight. Apparently the girl can do no wrong. He says that she's just 'confused', and that things between she and Ron are 'complicated'. I say that's a load of crap." Ginny sighed. "Then he says that I'm not being fair to Hermione, especially since I don't know her very well. And I tell him how can I, when she's the Ice Queen and doesn't let anyone in her vortex? She's very intimidating."

"The Ice Queen?" Isabelle laughed. "No, if anything, she's the Ice Princess. The title of Ice Queen belongs to Hermione's mum, hands down, trust me."

"Really?"

"Yes, really. Regina was the single most intimidating woman on planet earth, at least to me. And, talk about not being able to say anything wrong about her – she did no wrong in anyone's eyes, except for James. They fought constantly. But, Sirius simply adored her. It was disgusting; worse than the way Ron follows Hermione around like a lost puppy dog."

"Nothing's worse than that," Ginny said in disbelief.

"Ha. Sirius was pathetic. Heaven forbid I get in a fight with her, because of course, she's right, and I'm wrong. I mean, whatever. Everyone has problems, and I'm not going to bend over backwards because she got a bad shake or two."

"Exactly! That's what I think, too." They smiled at each other, each feeling a real bond with the other. "Did you ever get along with Hermione's mum?"

"Yeah, we became close right before she died. Turns out that Sirius was right all along, and she was a really nice person underneath the frosty exterior. Hermione's the same way. You just have to be really patient and let yourself grow on her. Which is frustrating, but that's just the way she is."

"But, what do I do in the meantime?"

"Other than scream and tear your hair out? Not much, but I'm here if you ever want to talk. Believe me, I know my family's not perfect. But, they're mine and I love them, anyway."

Sirius walked up the stands, cursing himself for being late for the match. He looked around for Isabelle, knowing that she was supposed to be here with the children. After a couple of minutes, he spied her at the front of a particularly crowded section of the stands. He fought his way through the excited crowd. Isabelle was lost in conversation with Ginny Weasley, and didn't notice him coming up behind her. Not wanting to interrupt them, he stood quietly and watched the match, trying not to overhear them.

"Well, I have the secret to bear being around Hermione when she's in one of her moods," he heard Isabelle say. "But, you have to promise, and I mean swear, not to tell it to anyone."

Ginny laughed at her mock seriousness. "I swear."

"Ok, remember when we did the unit on Christmas televisions specials in Muggle Studies?"

"Yeah."

"Remember the show 'Frosty, the Snowman'?"

"Yeah," she said slowly.

"Well, James and I made up our own version of the theme song to 'Frosty, the Snowman' when I was a teenager about Regina. A little tune called 'Frosty, the Snowbit--' well, it rhymes with rich. Young ears," she pointed discreetly at the children. "Anyway, between the two of us, we made up at least ten verses."

"You're kidding," Ginny giggled.

"Nope. We'd walk around humming the song when Gina was on a rampage. Pretty similar to Hermione's little fits, actually. Kept us sane."

Isabelle began singing the verses, which made Ginny laugh hysterically. Sirius couldn't believe his ears – he had no idea Isabelle felt this way about his wife or daughter. She did have a point though, he admitted. He didn't know whether to be angry or laugh.

"So, when Hermione starts irritating you, just start humming the song in your head. I guarantee it'll make you feel better. You probably shouldn't tell Harry about it, though."

"Yeah, he'd have a fit, even if it was his own father who made up the song." Ginny made a face. "Professor Evans, can I ask you a question? It's kind of personal."

"Sure, anything," she replied with an encouraging smile.

"Did you ever feel a little left out of things? Like you didn't really belong? I feel that way with my family since I'm the youngest and the only girl. And, I feel so left out when I'm around Harry, Ron and Hermione. Like I'm just extra baggage or something."

Isabelle sighed. "Yes, I did. I always felt like I was an observer, not a real participant."

"Like you're standing outside, looking in through a window?"

"Exactly! And I feel that way right now, to tell you the truth. Sometimes I feel like I'm just the family historian. I'm here to give out family heirlooms I've kept for years and tell old stories. And, do you know what the worst part is?"

"What?"

"I didn't even exist to Harry until Sirius' trial last year. All these years, I've been secretly helping him, and he didn't know I had ever lived, let alone that I was supposed to be dead! Oh, that makes me angrier than I'll ever let anyone know."

"I knew you existed," Ginny said quietly. "Bill told me all about you."

"Really? What did he say – we didn't exactly part on good terms," Isabelle asked somewhat sheepishly.

"Lots of things. He used to talk to me all the time about you. But, he made me promise not to say anything to Harry. Said it wasn't our place to inform him of his own family, and that if it was being kept a secret, there must be a good reason."

"Yes, and I'd like to know why Sirius never said anything. Guess I just wasn't important enough to him to be worth mentioning to Harry," Isabelle said, irate.

Her words cut Sirius to the core. Why hadn't she ever mentioned this, any of this, to him? But, then again, since when was Isabelle upfront about her feelings, he reminded himself. How could she honestly think that she didn't matter to me? he wondered. More importantly, how can I prove to her that she's wrong?

That's the problem, he told himself. I haven't exactly spent a great deal of time with her after the disastrous end to our date, and even less time together after my birthday. Not that he didn't want to be around her; it was almost as if she was shutting him out of her life.

No almost about it, he admitted. Something had to change, and fast. He turned and walked back down the stands, leaning against the wall. Isabelle would be furious if she knew that he overheard her conversation with Ginny. She considers girl talk sacred, he thought with a smile.

A loud cheering erupted from the Gryffindor stands. Sirius looked up and watched Harry chase after the snitch, Draco following closely. For some reason, Isabelle had a soft spot for Draco Malfoy, although he seemed pretty worthless as far as Sirius was concerned. Her huge heart amazed him – she managed to love the unlovable.

He kicked the wall, completely frustrated. Why do I even bother with her? he asked himself. She's emotionally withdrawn, stubborn, irritating, and keeps playing around with other men. I just need to get over her and find a nice, normal relationship before I destroy what's left of our family, he decided.

"Hey, where have you been all afternoon?"

Sirius turned around and stared. His resolve instantly disappeared when Isabelle smiled curiously. "I-uh, decided to watch the match down here."

"Oh." She shrugged.

"Can we go find Harry now? Please?" Stephen begged, pulling on Isabelle's sleeve.

"He's spending the night in the dorm," she whispered to Sirius. "I'm not sure if it's a good idea to expose a five-year-old to a Gryffindor house party, but Harry and Ron invited him. Maybe things have quieted down since I was a student."

"What, since the days when you celebrated the glory of Gryffindor by table dancing?" he teased, winking at Ginny.

"Don't get me started on what happens at a Gryffindor house party, tattoo boy," she replied evenly.

"Who in the bloody hell told you about that?" Sirius cursed, exasperated.

"And reveal my informant? Never." She flashed him a wicked grin and started walking across the pitch towards where Harry and Ron were celebrating. Too bad it took him an hour to get the snitch, Isabelle lamented.

"Hey, man. Ready to party?" Harry asked. Stephen just smiled, in awe of his hero. Isabelle discreetly passed Harry a small vial.

"Slip it to him before the party gets too crazy, ok? That's all I ask," she said softly. "One word out of you Sirius, and I swear I'll feed you to the giant squid."

He couldn't help himself. "What, did you dance on the squid, too?"

A heated argument in Gaelic immediately broke out. After a minute, Harry, Ron, Ginny and Stephen quietly walked away. Funny as they were when they argued, it was only a matter of time before they started throwing curses. And, none of them wanted to be accidentally hit with the bizarre hexes that Isabelle and Sirius came up with.


	22. Chapter 21

**Author's Note: **The song in this chapter is "Sunrise, Sunset", from the musical Fiddler on the Roof. See, I can be taught!

**

* * *

**

**Chapter 21**

Ginny trudged up the staircase to the girls' dormitory to change for the party that was already under way. Right as she passed by the fifth years' dorm room, something caught her eye. She walked to the doorway, and looked at Hermione, who was intensely studying a large stack of papers. Remembering her earlier conversation with Isabelle, and in the spirit of making Harry happy, she quietly knocked on the door.

"Come in," Hermione called out distractedly.

"You missed a good match," Ginny said, a little more sharply than she intended to.

"No, I didn't. I got there five minutes late, but I saw the rest of the match."

"Oh." She bit her lip, thinking of something to say. Professor Evans is wrong, she decided. Hermione definitely deserves the title of Ice Queen. "What are you working on?"

She looked up, and held up a title. "Trying to figure out what in the world killed my mother. Harry says I'm obsessed, but everyone needs a hobby, right? Anyway, these are a bunch of medical textbooks I picked up from the library at St. Mungo's over the Christmas holidays. Don't let Professor Snape know I have them, though."

"Why not?"

"He'll subtract a ton of points from Gryffindor. Isabelle says he lost someone he loved very much to the same heart disease my mother had a long time ago, but he's not totally over it." She shrugged.

"Weird."

"Tell me about it." Hermione rolled her eyes. "He didn't go off on you. Apparently Mum got infective whatever-it-is from doing drugs, so this is where this comes in. It would be quite helpful, if I could understand a single word of it."

"What is it?" Taking a leap of faith, Ginny crossed the room and sat down.

"Isabelle's doctoral thesis from NYU. It's on designer drugs, and their effects on the human body. And, it has a section on tainted paraphernalia, which is the part I need."

"How did you get that? Did Professor Evans give it to you?"

"No, I nicked it from her office. If I were brave enough, I'd ask her to explain it to me. Ginny, she's beyond a genius. It's like her IQ level is here," she held her hand about two feet off the ground, "and the rest of us mere mortals function at about this level." She put her hand on the floor.

Ginny flipped through the complicated chemistry formulas and detailed analysis. "I see what you mean."

"Do you know what the crazy part is? She wrote this while on a global tour with her ballet company. Look at these notes I found stuck in the back of the paper." Hermione pulled out a fistful of jagged papers filled with garbled handwriting. "Wonder what they say – maybe more formulas or something."

"Don't forget sale at Crate & Barrel this Friday – need lamp and bookshelf," Ginny read.

"How'd you know that?" she asked, amazed.

"They're in Gaelic. My whole bloody family's Irish, so I know a little bit of the language. Mostly swear words."

"What does this one say?"

"Rent due on Thursday." Ginny picked up another piece. "Dinner with Lucius at 5:00."

"As in Lucius Malfoy? Why would Isabelle have dinner with him?" Her eyes were as big as saucers.

"Dunno." She looked equally shocked.

"Well, does the note say anything else?" Hermione wrung her hands nervously.

Harry quietly crept down the hallway of the girls' dormitory. It had been at least a half hour since Ginny left to change, and he was beginning to wonder if she was all right. He heard voices at the end of the hall, and peeked into the room. Blinking, he stared at his glass and walked back downstairs.

"Hey, Ron," he hissed. "You have to come see something. You're not going to believe this."

He led Ron upstairs and pointed into the dorm room, where Ginny and Hermione were lost in conversation, chatting and laughing like old friends.

"Uh, is this the end of the world, or did Fred spike my drink?" Harry asked, amazed.

"I was wondering the same exact thing," Ron replied. "Maybe we should just let them be."

"Good idea." They snuck back down to the party; both wondering what Ginny and Hermione could possibly be talking about.

-----

"Going to the chapel and you're going to get married," Isabelle sang, teasing Fleur as they boarded the Hogwarts Express to London. From there, they planned to travel to Fleur's hometown in France to make last-minute wedding arrangements. 

She beamed. "I can't believe that it's almost Easter holidays already."

"Well, this is a whirlwind courtship."

"So was my parents', and they've been married for almost thirty years," Fleur answered.

"So was mine and Sergei's, and I've been trying to divorce him for almost three years now," Isabelle pointed out.

"But did you really love him?"

"Yes, but I loved someone else more, who I was desperately trying to forget." She sighed, sinking into the comfortable bench. "And that blinded me to the truth about my husband – that he's a brutal, cruel man incapable of loving someone else, especially me. He used me just like every other man on planet earth. Where did you find such a good one, anyway?"

"Luck, I suppose."

The train creaked as it left the station. Fleur looked at her friend thoughtfully. She needed to tell Isabelle something, and from what Charlie had told her, she wouldn't take the news well. Which is one reason why she chose to take the Hogwarts Express; it gave her more time to get up her nerve. Time flew by as they crossed into France. About a half hour before their station, Fleur cleared her throat nervously.

"Isabelle?"

"Hmm?" She looked up from her magazine.

"Charlie's going to pick us up at the station," she began.

"Ok. If you need space, I'll just head to the hotel."

"No, it's not that. It's, well, his best man is going to be with him."

"Oh, good. It'll be nice to meet whoever I'm supposed to walk down the aisle with."

"From what I've heard, you've met each other." Fleur closed her eyes, gathered up all her courage, and took a deep breath. "It's Bill."

"Bill?" Isabelle said sharply, eyes spitting fire.

"He told Charlie he was looking forward to seeing you again," she said in a small voice, hoping to calm Isabelle down. It didn't work.

"Well, the feeling's not mutual."

She stormed out of the compartment, slamming the door to take a walk. Well, that went well, Fleur thought despondently.

The train came to a stop at the main train station in Nice. Fleur picked up her cloak and carry-on bag, and walked out into the hallway. She passed by Isabelle, giving her a look. They exited the train, where two redheaded men were waiting on the platform.

Isabelle did a double take. That was Bill? She couldn't believe the change in his appearance since Hogwarts – he actually lost the nerd look and was, well, attractive. For Bill, anyway. She walked right past him to fetch her bag from inside the station without giving him a second look. He followed her and picked up the suitcase out of her hand.

"Hi, Dungeon Girl," he said quietly. She turned around with wounded, angry eyes.

"Go n-ithe an cat thú is go n-ithe an diabhal an cat (May the cat eat you and the devil eat the cat)," she swore, spitting on his dragonhide boot. She muscled past him and exited the station, where Fleur and Charlie were still greeting each other.

"Isabelle, please don't be like this. We need to talk."

"Talk? I think we got everything out in the open quite a long time ago, don't you?"

"Oh, come on. What was I supposed to think?"

"Wasn't it you who told me that I needed to stop feeling sorry for myself and start living?" she pointed out.

"Living, yes. Hooking up with every guy imaginable, no. You were worse than Ali, Sydney and Tabitha put together."

"Wrong. Ok, I admit that was with Andrew, but no one else. Well, except for that one time with Ian, but that was just because – well, you know why." She paused, looking at his skeptical face. "See, you still don't believe me, your own best mate. Do you know how much that hurts? And, how much it hurts that you never tried to contact me since July?"

"I didn't know what to say. I still don't, except that when I thought that you died, a big part of me died with you. All I could think about was our stupid fight, and how I just should've kept my big nose out of your business."

"Yeah, you should've," she agreed.

"I'm sorry Isabelle, for everything."

"Oh, me too." She hugged him tightly, and looked over at Charlie and Fleur, who were still oblivious to the rest of humanity. "Well, Superman, what do you say to finding a decent restaurant around here?"

"Sure. Never dined with an actual Countess before," he replied in an overly snobby voice. She playfully smacked him on the head, as they left the station. It was just like old times, Isabelle thought happily. She smiled at Bill, who was thinking the same thing.

-----

Ginny hopped off the train first, scanning the platform for Bill. Only she knew that he and Isabelle were once friends, and why they stopped talking to each other. And, that for the past week, they've been thrown together to help with the wedding. She had nervously paced the train compartment the whole ride, which drove Harry nuts. 

"Ooh-la-la," Fred muttered under his breath, as a gorgeous brunette walked by.

"Oh, grow up, Fred," she snapped, still looking for any sign of her brother, hoping he was still in one piece.

"What? I'm just appreciating other cultures," he said innocently.

"Right. Where's Bill?" She wrung her hands nervously.

"At Fleur's parents' house, putting up decorations," Ron replied, holding up a letter. "We're supposed to meet them there. The only problem is that the directions are in French."

"Um, do any of you speak French?" George asked. Everyone shook their heads.

"Great," Harry said, looking at the tiny handwriting.

"Well, what do we do?" Fred asked.

"Maybe one of the people in the station can translate this for us," Ginny suggested.

She and Harry walked into the station, and walked right back out again a minute later, with angry looks on our faces.

"Not only were they rude to us," Ginny huffed, "no one in there speaks fluent English! Not well enough to translate these directions, anyway. How is that possible? This is Nice, not Siberia! This is absolutely ridiculous."

"You're cute when you're mad," Harry joked. He thought steam was going to rise from her ears any second, which didn't bother him. Her face was nearly as red as her hair.

"Calm down, sis. All we need to do is catch a cab," George pointed out.

"There's no address listed on this letter!" Ginny screamed. "And, even if there was, how would we know the difference! We're stranded."

"We're not stranded. We're just stuck for a few hours," Ron said.

"What are you talking about?"

"Harry, aren't Hermione and Sirius supposed to get here on the next train?" Ron asked.

"Good point," he answered. Fred, George and Ginny looked hopelessly confused. "Both of them speak fluent French, so if we just hang out here until the next train gets in, we can all go together."

"Professor Black speaks French?" Fred asked.

"Yeah, apparently he and Remus learned it to impress girls from Beauxbatons back in the day." Harry shrugged.

"Why didn't you ride the train with your girl?" George teased Ron.

"First off," he snapped, "she's not my girl. Second, they're doing some kind of bonding thing."

Ginny rolled her eyes. "For your information, today would've been Hermione's parents' wedding anniversary. She wanted to see where they got married, so they went to Dover."

"What? I've never even been there," Harry said, slightly hurt.

"Talk to your aunt about it," Ron said, pointing.

Isabelle was walking towards them with Bill, both laughing at the angry looks on the children's faces. At least, Harry thought that it was his aunt. She looked gorgeous, far prettier and stylish than anyone he'd ever seen before, even on television.

For once, she had her hair down, and charmed it so that it fell to the middle of her back in loose waves. And her outfit looked like something straight out of one of Ginny's fashion magazines. Which, he thought, it probably was. He reminded himself that Isabelle grew up in a completely different world than he did, and it showed.

Every guy at the station stopped dead in their tracks and stared at her, including George, Fred and Ron. Completely oblivious, she kept walking down the platform, lost in conversation with Bill.

"I guess they made up," Ginny muttered under her breath.

"What do you mean?" Ron asked, snapping out of his trance. "Are you saying they know each other?"

Ginny sighed. It was time to tell Harry the truth, and she would rather it come from her than from someone else. "They were best mates at Hogwarts. Bill was a year ahead of Professor Evans, and was a sort of big brother to her. But, they had a huge fight right before, well, the attack on your family. Until last week, they haven't talked to each other in almost fifteen years."

"How do you know?" Fred snorted.

"Because Bill used to tell me about it growing up," she said quietly. Harry turned to her with wounded eyes, just like she knew he would.

"You knew, you _knew_, I had other family, and you didn't tell me?" he asked, upset. "Did any of you know, too?"

They all shook their heads, just as surprised as Harry was. Ginny felt absolutely terrible, as Bill and Isabelle walked up to them.

"You know each other?" Harry asked them.

"Well, hello to you, too," Isabelle joked. "Yes, I claim this git sometimes."

"Likewise," Bill replied sarcastically.

"I take it that y'all had a hard time reading my directions?"

"Just a little bit," Fred said.

"Ok, I haven't said anything all week, but what's up with the accent? You're talking like you're in slow motion. It's the weirdest accent I've ever heard," Bill complained to Isabelle.

"Alright," she said in a flawless English accent, "is this better?"

"Thank you. You sound human again." She stuck out her tongue at Bill.

"Where are Sirius and Hermione? Weren't they supposed to be on the same train with you?" Isabelle asked, looking around the platform.

Harry was thrown for a minute by her accent. "No, they're in Dover."

"Dover."

She suddenly remembered the date, and felt like someone had knocked the wind out of her. Bill saw the look on her face, knowing immediately that something was horribly wrong.

"Come on," he told everyone. "The car's parked right beside the platform."

Isabelle began walking slowly, dazed. She looked at Bill. "Some things just never change, do they?"

"What do you mean?"

"I completely forgot that today would've been Sirius and Regina's eighteenth wedding anniversary." She sighed helplessly.

"You're still in love with him."

"Until the day I die. And he's still in love with her, apparently. Didn't I tell you all those years ago that this would happen?"

Bill put his arm around her. Sirius Black has always had some mystical power over Isabelle, he thought. No, some things never change.

-----

Ginny shifted nervously on the car seat as Isabelle drove through the beautiful city. Everyone chatted around her, except for she and Harry, who sat in stony silence. It seemed like forever before the car pulled up at an impressive French chateau. Harry bolted out, and stormed inside without looking at anyone. 

"Harry," she called out. He completely ignored her. "Harry, wait a minute. Can we talk?"

"Why start now?"

Despite her own rising temper, she pulled him into a small study and shut the door.

"That wasn't fair, Harry."

"And, it's so fair that you kept the fact that I had other family from me?"

That did it. "Now you listen here, Harry Potter. I'm sick and tired of your little victim routine. So what, you have more family. And, I just happened to know about them, so that makes me the villain? I don't think so. Has it ever occurred to you that you could've researched your family a little? Hermione and I looked through the Daily Prophet archives last week. The amount of press on your family is incredible. If you had ever bothered to look your family up, you would have found out a lot of things. Including that you had an aunt named Isabelle Evans."

Harry sat down on the couch, and put his head in his hands. Ginny had a point – a very good point. Why hadn't he ever bothered to research his own family? Suddenly, he felt horrible. He looked up.

"I'm sorry, Virginia. You're right."

"Which makes you?"

He stared at her. She crossed her arms and glared back. "Wrong, ok? Happy?"

"Ecstatic. Why do you insist on calling me by my full name?" she said, exasperated.

"Because it irritates you. I told you that you're cute when you're mad."

Ginny rolled her eyes. "Why do I put up with you, anyway?"

"Because I'm irresistible. That, and I help you with your Charms homework."

"Yeah, you are charming," she joked, as they walked down the hallway to find everyone else.

-----

"Desmond has a barrow in the market place," Isabelle sang, stringing up lights around the enormous ballroom. 

"Molly is the singer in a band," Ginny added.

"Desmond says to Molly -- girl I like your face. And Molly says this as she takes him by the hand," they sang together.

"Ok, everyone," Isabelle shouted.

"Ob-la-di ob-la-da life goes on la, La-la how the life goes on. Ob-la-di ob-la-da life goes on la, La-la how the life goes on," everyone else sang loudly and slightly off key, laughing.

Following the noise, Sirius and Hermione managed to find the ballroom after wandering around the estate for at least ten minutes. Both stopped and stared at the sight in front of them.

Isabelle was sitting on Bill's shoulders, stringing up lights around the ceiling, singing away. He felt like someone had punched him in the gut. All day, all he could think of is how much he missed being around her all week, and how he was looking forward to seeing her. Especially after wandering around the grounds of the old Evans estate, which brought back so many memories.

During the train ride from Dover to Nice, he finally came to terms with a great deal of his own past. He desperately wanted to vent to Isabelle, but there she was, having the time of her life. Why didn't I remember that she and Bill used to be close? he lamented. Or that she loves the Beatles?

Close wasn't the word, he thought bitterly. The fact that she looked absolutely stunning didn't help matters any. Being with her suddenly seemed like an impossible dream.

Isabelle looked down, and saw the shattered look on Sirius' face. Of course all of this wedding business would be painful for him, she realized. Especially since he's still in love with Regina. Her face fell. Bill was right – she just needed to get over him once and for all, and get on with her life. Because it was obvious there was no room in Sirius' life, or heart, for her.

-----

The morning sun shined down on the grounds of Fleur's parents' home, promising a perfect day for the wedding. Isabelle spent the morning running last-minute errands, making sure the men were set, and calming down a nervous bride. Finally, it was time to begin the wedding. She discreetly walked across the lawn, and stood off to one side of the guests. 

Ever since she taught Fleur ballet many years ago, her mother always wanted Isabelle to sing "Sunrise, Sunset" as the mothers walked down the aisle to be seated. The entire wedding party thought this was a fabulous idea, so a reluctant Isabelle agreed to sing. She took a deep breath, and began.

_Is this the little girl I carried?   
Is this the little boy at play?  
I don't remember growing older  
When did they? _

_When did she get to be a beauty?  
When did he grow to be so tall?  
Wasn't it yesterday when they were small? _

_Sunrise, sunset  
Sunrise, sunset  
Quickly fly the days  
Seedlings turn overnight to sunflowers  
Blossoming even as we gaze _

_Sunrise, sunset  
Sunrise, sunset  
Quickly fly the years  
One season following another  
Laden with happiness and tears _

Like the majority of the guests, Hermione teared up and reached for a tissue as Isabelle finished the song. Harry looked at her and rolled his eyes. He leaned over to make a snide comment, but Ginny walked down the aisle, which completely distracted him. Not that he minded; actually he was grateful for the distraction because the warm sun was making him terribly sleepy. By the time the wedding was over, Hermione had to pinch him twice to keep him awake.

The guests slowly walked into the estate for the reception in the ballroom. Nervous about impressing her wealthy in-laws, Molly Weasley told her children that if they even thought about pulling a prank, it would be the last thing they ever did. And, they all believed her. Grumbling about the lack of fun at the reception, they ate and danced respectably, which surprised everyone.

Isabelle scanned the room, avoiding old acquaintances from her days with her husband's ballet company. She wanted today to be a happy one, and answering questions about her contested divorce would spoil her mood.

"Can I have a dance?"

She jumped and turned around. "You scared me!"

"I'm just a scary guy." Sirius shrugged. "So, how about it?"

"Sure. Hey, hold still for a minute."

"Why?"

"You have something in your hair." After a second, she laughed softly. "You have a grey hair."

"Guess it's my old age creeping up on me," he said sardonically.

"Guess so."

"Is that how you think of me, as an old, broken down man?" he said jokingly, although he was completely serious. She looked at him with a puzzled frown.

"Of course not. What gave you that idea?"

He didn't answer her, so they danced quietly for a few minutes.

"Isabelle?"

"Hmm?"

"You sang beautifully today."

"Oh, thank you." She looked at him, beaming.

"The song is so true," Sirius mused. "I remember teaching you to dance when you were a little girl. Doesn't seem like it was that long ago."

"Do you still see me as that little girl?" she asked softly.

"No." Anything but, he thought, as she laid her head on his shoulder.

"Are you doing anything for the Easter holidays?"

"Other than dropping off Hermione at the Grangers', no. I'll need a week to recover from spending the afternoon over there. They're nice people, but I've never met a more boring couple in my entire life. Hey, would you like to come with me?"

Isabelle snorted. "Much as I would hate to miss the fun, I can't. I'm going on holiday."

"Oh?"

"Yes, Bill and I leave tomorrow morning."

Sirius was hurt, although he wasn't surprised. They seemed to be quite close all weekend, from what he could see. But, the idea of Isabelle going somewhere with Bill for the entire holidays put him in a jealous rage. Which was ridiculous, he told himself, because there was nothing he could do about it. She didn't want him, and that was final.

-----

Sirius felt like a caged animal, stuck between his imagination working overtime over Isabelle's holiday and the two giggling teenage girls sitting across from him. Hermione invited Ginny to come with her to her parents' house, and they were spending the trip laughing over some magazine full of cute boys. It suddenly occurred to him that he had no idea where Isabelle went. 

"Ginny?"

"Yes?"

"Do you know where Isabelle and Bill went on holiday?"

Ginny looked at him, puzzled. "What do you mean? Bill went back to work today."

"What? Isabelle said she was leaving with him to go on holiday."

"No, she told me she was going on holiday by herself," Hermione interrupted.

"Do what?" Sirius was confused. "Do you know where she went?"

"The only place she can really sit and think in peace. That's all she told me, and trust me, I tried to get details," she replied. "That's when she told me she was going on holiday by herself, so that she can get away from nosy prats like me."

"Yeah, but I saw her leave with Bill this morning," Ginny said.

"Maybe they traveled together," Hermione pointed out. "Wasn't Bill taking the train to London to work at that branch of Gringotts' for a while?"

"I think so, but that doesn't make any sense, though. Can't they Apperate wherever they're going?"

"True. The only place where you can't Apperate is on the Hogwarts grounds."

Wrong, Sirius thought, but he didn't bother to correct his daughter. If what they were saying is true, he knew exactly where Isabelle went. But, why would she go there now, especially by herself? That question bothered him for the rest of the day.

-----

Bill casually twirled his spaghetti around his fork, looking across the table at Isabelle. Her entire face was set, as if she had made up her mind about something. She was on a mission, but he didn't know what it was. The look in her determined green eyes was solid steel. 

"Isabelle, why are we in Dover?"

Her focused eyes bore into his. "I'm tired of all this, Bill, and it has to stop."

"What has to stop?"

"This," she clutched her head with her hands, biting her lip, "this all-encompassing love I have for Sirius. The other day in Nice, I realized that I have devoted my entire life to him. And, for what? I built my dreams around the outside hope that he'd love me one day. What did that get me? A broken heart."

"Aren't you being dramatic?"

"No, and that's the sad part. I wish I were overreacting. I've lived my whole life for him. I danced because that made him proud of me. All those lessons and all that practice – they were the only way I could show my love for him. And, after he went to prison, I devoted endless hours at the law library at William and Mary trying to figure out a way to get him out of prison. When that didn't work, I settled for looking after his daughter from time to time, making sure she was all right." She smiled grimly. "Then, I realized that he wasn't getting out of Azkaban. And, the life I made for myself was the only life I would ever have. I was sick of living in a dream world, so I married Sergei for all the wrong reasons. Yes, he's a psychopathic piece of filth, but I only married him because I was upset that I could never have the man I truly loved."

"Then, he broke out of prison, got acquitted, and here we are," Bill summarized.

"Here we are," Isabelle echoed. "It's the same song, just a different verse. When I heard that Sirius went to Dover, something clicked in my mind. I've been fighting and wallowing in the ghosts of the past for far too long, and it's time to make my peace with everything that happened. And with what can never be."

"Are you sure going your old house will accomplish that?"

"Yes. That old house is the physical embodiment of my past. I need to face those ghosts if they're ever going to stop haunting me. And, I need time to think, to find out who I really am, independent of Sirius. Right now, that doesn't exist, but it needs to. What's that smile?"

"Finally, she has seen the light," he joked, imitating a preacher. They laughed.

"Well, I had a lot of help along the way," she said with a thankful smile. She stood up from the table. "Wish me luck."

"May the force be with you," he said in a serious tone.

"Bill!" she laughed. "You're awful. Anyway, I'll see you in a week for dinner?"

"As long as you're paying."

She made a face. "Sure, why not. Consider it payment for all the therapy you've given me over the years."

"It's a date, then," he called, as she walked out of the restaurant.

-----

Slightly apprehensive, Isabelle walked down the lane for the first time in almost fifteen years. The stately trees lining the driveway looked almost exactly like they did back then, except that they had grown together, making a canopy that completely shaded the lane. 

The house loomed in the distance, and she took a deep breath as she drew closer to her childhood home. Before they abandoned the property all those years ago, a Preserving charm was placed on the house to protect it from decay. So, it stood in all its grandeur as if it was just patiently waiting for its owners to come home.

She walked up the stairs, and opened the door. It creaked on its hinges, and stuck completely when it was opened halfway. So much for Preserving charms, she thought. Stale air whipped past her, causing her to cough and gag. Holding her nose, she threw open the windows, letting in the cool spring air. She took a few deep breaths before exploring the rest of the house.

The stairs groaned and whined underneath her feet as she climbed to the second floor. Enchanted, she walked into each bedroom, opening the windows and charming away the dust. It truly was like stepping into the past, especially when she went into the nursery. She smiled, and walked down the back staircase to the kitchen.

By this time, some of the fresh air from the living room flowed into the rest of the first floor, so the stale stench wasn't as enveloping. She opened the empty cabinets, glad that she had just eaten. A trip to the grocery store was definitely in order, she decided, freshening up the room with a careless flick of her hand.

Satisfied that the house was in order and clean, she walked onto the back veranda. The setting sun gave the grounds an unearthly glow. She swallowed nervously. There was only one place where she could begin to get over Sirius. With faltering, hesitant footsteps, she crossed the lawn to battle the ghosts of the past.


	23. Chapter 22: Unedited Beginning

**Author's Note: **Here's another of those non-board friendly scenes again! Read at your own risk! Run away...as per regular, I'd rate this a PG-15.

* * *

**Chapter 22: Unedited Beginning**

Sirius walked through the partially opened front door, which confirmed his suspicions. Isabelle was here. The glow of the moon shone through the windows, illuminating the room. He had an eerie feeling standing in the middle of the room, which looked exactly like it did before they left.

"Isabelle?" he called. His voice echoed throughout the house. "Isabelle, where are you?"

No answer. He began searching the house room by room, with no luck. As he walked onto the back veranda, he suddenly knew where she was. He had to talk to her, to try to make some sense of their peculiar relationship.

Sirius quietly crossed the backyard on his way to Isabelle's old fort, drawn by some magnetic power he couldn't describe. Somehow, he knew that she was there. It's where she always went to be alone and think. As he approached the entrance of the fort, she turned to face him. The moon illuminated her features, giving her the angelic glow that never failed to take his breath away.

"Isabelle?"

She laughed hollowly. "Right on time. I should've expected this."

"Expected what?" Her cold response shocked him.

"Every time, I begin to get over you, you manage to show back up," she spat, eyes full of contempt.

"Over me? What are you talking about?"

"Typical Sirius. Completely blind to what's in front of you." She sighed. "I can lie to you in front of the children or anyone else that asks. But, not here. Do you remember the first time you found me here?"

"How could I forget?"

"I was so scared, and felt so alone. Then, you came here, and you spoke to me. And, from that first word, I knew my life would never be the same. Remember when you told me about our star?"

"Of course." He smiled at the memory.

"Every night since then, I would go outside and look at the stars. Sometimes I would talk to them, and pretend that you and everyone else could hear me. Other times I would just stare, and make a wish."

"What did you wish?"

"For the one thing I've always wanted, and will never have." She closed her eyes, and slowly slid down the doorway, pounding her fists on the ground. "Damn you, and your stars. And damn the dreams I wished on them. I'm tired of hoping and dreaming – no more. I'm through with all of it. Sirius, I hate you. I hate you and everything you stand for. Most of all, I hate that you'll never, ever love me."

"I do, Isabelle," he said gently, putting his hand on her shoulder. She threw it off, and spun around to face him, wild-eyed.

"Don't patronize me. You ruined me, Sirius. You made me love you more than anyone else, but you didn't want me, either. You never have. No one has even remotely compared to you, but what choice did I have other than to try to forget you in the arms of another man? But, I never forgot," she sobbed, clenching her fists tightly. He knelt down beside her and pulled her to his chest.

"Let go of me!" she screamed, pushing him away. She wiped her tears on her robe sleeve and looked at the water. "Let me tell you something about your precious stars. Every night, they twinkle so brightly in the sky, just out of my reach. Beautiful to look at, but untouchable. Just like you."

Sirius caught her by the arm as she tried to run away and pulled her into a tight embrace. His free hand trembled as he turned her face to his, brushing away a stray tear.

"Gráim thú, (I love you)" he whispered, looking into her disbelieving eyes. "Tá tú an grá mo chroí, anim anam chara. (You are the love of my heart, my soulmate)"

"What? S-stop mocking me," she wailed, trying to break free of him.

He kissed her as if his life depended on it, which wasn't far from the truth. He needed her, and was willing to show her by any means necessary to make her understand.

"Was that mocking you? Isabelle, I meant what I said. Please believe me," he begged. She fell limply to the ground in shock.

"You just feel sorry for me. Just leave," she pointed to the pathway. "Leave!"

"No. I'm not leaving until you listen to me. You are the love of my heart. You stole my heart from the very first time I saw you. And, yes, I was blind to the fact that you grew up. I wanted you to be a little girl forever."

"I see."

"Isabelle, when I went to prison, you were still a skinny girl with knobby knees. And you came back into my life with the face of an angel and a body I find almost impossible to resist. I needed some time to get used to that idea."

"Almost impossible?" She raised an eyebrow.

"Months of extremely cold showers," he admitted calmly.

"How cold?" she teased, wrapping her arms around his neck.

"Does the Arctic Ocean ring a bell? So, I've fought this war with myself, trying to deny that I'm completely in love with you."

"Completely?" she snorted.

"Completely," he answered sincerely, kissing her slowly and passionately, lowering her onto the ground. He realized that she was crying and looked at her, concerned.

"I'm sorry," she sniffled. "I've wanted you to say those words longer than I can remember, and now that you have, I don't know what to do."

He gave her a lopsided grin. "I think we can figure it out."

She smiled through her tears, abandoning herself to the moment. With every touch, every kiss, Isabelle forgot that she came here to get over Sirius. Even in her wildest fantasies, she never imagined that being with him would be like this. She felt like time stopped, and she was lost in some sort of alternate reality.

"Does your offer still stand?" he whispered into her ear, before kissing it softly.

"What offer is that?"

"The one you made when you pretended to be drunk off Jose Cuervo," he teased.

"So, you found out my secret, huh?"

He nodded. "Yes, and I'm very sick of cold showers, so please end my misery."

"Well, when you put it like that…" her voice trailed off as she reached up and deftly unbuttoned his shirt, pulling it off in one smooth motion. "Is that enough answer for you?"

He could only nod, stunned, as she kissed his neck and chest while removing the remainder of his clothing.

"Nice tattoo," she said with an evil smirk. "Sorry, couldn't resist."

"Well, I can't resist doing this," he replied, pulling off her lightweight sweater, struck by the sight of her in the moonlight. "You are so beautiful, Isabelle."

Right then, he realized that the battle against his feelings for Isabelle was over once and for all. He willingly surrendered, knowing that their relationship was changed forever. The irony of the situation struck Sirius. Of all the locations in the world to profess his love for her, and to make love to her for the first time (of many, he hoped), it would happen in this fort. The place where their relationship began – it was almost like hallowed ground.

If the fort was hallowed ground, then making love to her was a mystical, almost spiritual experience. One that he would never, and could never forget.


	24. Chapter 22

**Chapter 22**

Sirius walked through the partially opened front door, which confirmed his suspicions. Isabelle was here. The glow of the moon shone through the windows, illuminating the room. He had an eerie feeling standing in the middle of the room, which looked exactly like it did before they left.

"Isabelle?" he called. His voice echoed throughout the house. "Isabelle, where are you?"

No answer. He began searching the house room by room, with no luck. As he walked onto the back veranda, he suddenly knew where she was. He had to talk to her, to try to make some sense of their peculiar relationship.

Sirius quietly crossed the backyard on his way to Isabelle's old fort, drawn by some magnetic power he couldn't describe. Somehow, he knew that she was there. It's where she always went to be alone and think. As he approached the entrance of the fort, she turned to face him. The moon illuminated her features, giving her the angelic glow that never failed to take his breath away.

"Isabelle?"

She laughed hollowly. "Right on time. I should've expected this."

"Expected what?" Her cold response shocked him.

"Every time, I begin to get over you, you manage to show back up," she spat, eyes full of contempt.

"Over me? What are you talking about?"

"Typical Sirius. Completely blind to what's in front of you." She sighed. "I can lie to you in front of the children or anyone else that asks. But, not here. Do you remember the first time you found me here?"

"How could I forget?"

"I was so scared, and felt so alone. Then, you came here, and you spoke to me. And, from that first word, I knew my life would never be the same. Remember when you told me about our star?"

"Of course." He smiled at the memory.

"Every night since then, I would go outside and look at the stars. Sometimes I would talk to them, and pretend that you and everyone else could hear me. Other times I would just stare, and make a wish."

"What did you wish?"

"For the one thing I've always wanted, and will never have." She closed her eyes, and slowly slid down the doorway, pounding her fists on the ground. "Damn you, and your stars. And damn the dreams I wished on them. I'm tired of hoping and dreaming – no more. I'm through with all of it. Sirius, I hate you. I hate you and everything you stand for. Most of all, I hate that you'll never, ever love me."

"I do, Isabelle," he said gently, putting his hand on her shoulder. She threw it off, and spun around to face him, wild-eyed.

"Don't patronize me. You ruined me, Sirius. You made me love you more than anyone else, but you didn't want me, either. You never have. No one has even remotely compared to you, but what choice did I have other than to try to forget you in the arms of another man? But, I never forgot," she sobbed, clenching her fists tightly. He knelt down beside her and pulled her to his chest.

"Let go of me!" she screamed, pushing him away. She wiped her tears on her robe sleeve and looked at the water. "Let me tell you something about your precious stars. Every night, they twinkle so brightly in the sky, just out of my reach. Beautiful to look at, but untouchable. Just like you."

Sirius caught her by the arm as she tried to run away and pulled her into a tight embrace. His free hand trembled as he turned her face to his, brushing away a stray tear.

"Gráim thú, (I love you)" he whispered, looking into her disbelieving eyes. "Tá tú an grá mo chroí, anim anam chara. (You are the love of my heart, my soulmate)"

"What? S-stop mocking me," she wailed, trying to break free of him.

He kissed her as if his life depended on it, which wasn't far from the truth. He needed her, and was willing to show her by any means necessary to make her understand.

"Was that mocking you? Isabelle, I meant what I said. Please believe me," he begged. She fell limply to the ground in shock.

"You just feel sorry for me. Just leave," she pointed to the pathway. "Leave!"

"No. I'm not leaving until you listen to me. You are the love of my heart. You stole my heart from the very first time I saw you. And, yes, I was blind to the fact that you grew up. I wanted you to be a little girl forever. But, that's impossible. So, I've fought this war with myself, trying to deny that I'm completely in love with you."

"Completely?" she snorted.

"Completely," he answered sincerely, kissing her slowly and passionately. "Do you still want me to leave?"

"I think you can stay for a little while," she said, wrapping her arms around his neck, smiling wickedly.

-----

Isabelle sat up, looking over the white cliffs at the dawn sky. She had forgotten just how beautiful it was here. The sun's first rays shone on the water, followed by bright sunbeams that matched her mood. 

"Awake already?"

She turned around and smiled. "I couldn't sleep. I just knew that you'd disappear the second I fell asleep. Then I'd wake up, alone, and all of this would be a dream. The best dream I've ever had, but still, only a dream."

"The best dream you've ever had, huh?" he repeated with a crooked smile. She made a face. "You said it, not me. Hey, where are you going?"

"To find some breakfast. Get yourself together and join me," she called, walking towards the house.

Surely there were at least a fifteen-year-old jar of preserves and a box of biscuits somewhere in this kitchen, she thought, poking through the empty cabinets. Desperate, she threw open the pantry door. Nothing. She flung herself down at the kitchen table, frustrated.

"What's wrong?" Sirius yawned, walking into the house.

"There's nothing to eat." Her stomach growled loudly, as if to drive in the point. He laughed.

"Too bad we can't use the Floo Network to get to a grocery store, and have to walk off grounds to Apperate anywhere. I'm sure Lord Voldemort, or at least Sergei, has all of my properties closely watched for any activity."

Sirius nodded. "I'm sure. Well, I'm afraid that only leaves one option."

"What's that?"

"Live off love," he joked, leaning down and kissing her. Her stomach growled even louder.

"I don't think so."

"Well, are we walking or taking a car?"

Distracted by his embrace, Isabelle made an unknowing confession. "No, I blew them up, remember?"

Sirius didn't quite know what to say to that. He tried to keep an even expression on his face, so that she wouldn't realize what she had just said. Clueless, she smiled and led him out of the front door to walk to the estate gate, where they could Apperate to go shopping.

-----

Isabelle rested her head on Sirius' shoulder, quietly thinking as they watched the sunset on the back veranda. The past three days had flown by, and she couldn't help wishing that the week would last forever. For the first time in her life, she was truly, completely happy. She didn't want to return to a world full of divorce proceedings, Death Eater threats, classes to teach, papers to grade, children to raise…and Severus. 

Who would be livid once he found out where she's been, and whom she's been with. He wouldn't understand that to her, loving Sirius is as necessary as breathing. She didn't want to hurt Severus, and she loved him very much, but she just couldn't deny the realization of the only dream that she's ever had.

Maybe I could make him see that Sirius loves me, and, and then what? she thought. He'll never approve of this, so you're stuck between the two men you love most in this world.

"Why are you so quiet?" Sirius whispered in her ear.

"Just thinking about how the holidays are almost half over."

"Don't remind me."

Isabelle sat up and looked at him. "Do you know what the best part of this whole week has been?"

He raised an eyebrow and gave her a suggestive look.

"Other than _that_," she said, exasperated, swatting at him.

"How do you know what I was thinking?" he asked, pretending to be offended. She rolled her eyes.

"Deny that your mind was in the gutter."

"My mind wasn't in the gutter; it was somewhere else entirely. Anyway, what's the best part of the whole week?"

"I'm not afraid," she said quietly, but with conviction.

Sirius put his arm around her, thinking. Although he knew her better than anyone, he didn't know how far to push her. She had her barriers and boundaries, even with him, and when he crossed one, she shut up completely. Suddenly, he felt a bit ridiculous treading carefully around the skeletons in her closet. Whatever happened in the past still hurts her, and it won't get any better unless the subject gets brought up.

"Isabelle, why did you blow the cars up?"

She stiffened. "What are you talking about?"

"Earlier this week, you said that we couldn't take one of the cars because you blew them up. What did you mean by that?"

"Nothing. Can we go in now? It's getting chilly, and I think I'm catching a cold."

"Sure," he replied lightly. Directly asking her wasn't getting anywhere, so he had to resort to tricking her into telling the truth. "Didn't your father have some sort of sports car? A Jaguar?"

"No, an Aston Martin DB4 convertible," she replied in a dead voice, turning to walk in the house. Sirius caught her arm.

"This has got to end, Isabelle. I've kept your secret for at least twenty-two years now."

"I don't know what you're talking about," she repeated evenly.

"You're a liar. Whatever you're hiding is destroying you from the inside out. You can trust me with anything," he pleaded.

"Leave me alone."

"Fine." He let go of her arm and started walking towards the door.

"I didn't blow up the car."

Sirius stopped dead in his tracks and turned around to face her. She was looking downward at the brick veranda, tracing the pattern of the bricks with her toe. Her chin quivered slightly as she took a ragged breath.

"I hacked the Aston Martin to pieces, then I melted it. After that, I blew the garage sky high and went to Diagon Alley for ice cream."

He lifted her chin with his hand and looked into her petrified green eyes. "Why did you do it?"

"B-because h-he, that is, m-my father, he," she floundered.

Hiccups from fright shook her tiny frame. He enveloped her in his arms, wishing he could erase the pain somehow. There was nothing he could do but hold her and listen to her desperate attempts not to cry. Sometimes she was simply too stubborn for her own good.

"It's ok," he said reassuringly. "Cry, scream, melt cars – whatever it takes for you to have some closure. Anything that happened isn't your fault. It never was."

"You've known all along, haven't you? Never mind, that's an absurd question. Why didn't you ever say anything? Because I wouldn't admit anything, not as long as Lily lived, anyway. Why are you bringing this up now?"

"Oh, I finally get to join the conversation?" Isabelle managed a brief smile. "So that you know that you're not alone. And, that I know all of your deepest, darkest secrets, and I'm still desperately in love with you."

"Likewise," she said softly, looking at him adoringly.

The passage of time never changes some things; even now, he was her hero. Somehow, he always managed to make her feel better about anything, even her warped, twisted life.

-----

Isabelle woke up and rolled over. In a sleepy haze, she stretched out her arm, feeling nothing but empty bed. Frowning, she sat up, brushing hair out of her face. She drew her knees to her chest, wondering where Sirius could be, especially so early in the morning. 

Stretching, she stood up and wandered to the window. Her bedroom had a perfect view of the cliffs; in fact, it was her favorite part of the entire room. Squinting, she looked at the far end of the grounds. A chill ran down her spine, and she felt paralyzed. Sirius was staring at the sunrise, leaning against Regina's tree.

She felt sick, and limply walked back to the bed. It just wasn't fair, she thought, closing her eyes and leaning back on a pillow. I'm second best, the consolation prize.

But, she told herself firmly, I've known that for as long as I can remember. And I shouldn't expect, or hope for, anything else. If I'm going to be with Sirius, I'm just going to have to get used to that idea.

I must have a thing for men who don't really want me, she thought glumly. Sirius may need me to run his financial empire and raise his daughter, but does he truly want _me_, Isabelle? If I had never seen him again, would he mourn me like he does Regina? Or would he be just as happy with some other woman?

It doesn't really matter, she concluded while walking into the bathroom to take a quick shower. Because like it or not, you want and need Sirius Black. Whether he returns your feelings or not.

Isabelle quickly showered and dressed. Sighing deeply, she walked downstairs and onto the grounds. She paused for a minute on the veranda, trying to decide whether she should disturb Sirius or not. Before she could make up her mind, he turned and walked to the house, raising a surprised eyebrow.

"You're up early," she said, trying to keep her voice cheerful.

No use starting an argument, she decided. Besides, I probably don't want to hear the truth about why he was out there, anyway.

"Couldn't sleep," he admitted, shrugging. "How could I, when you were with me?"

She laughed, biting her lip. Maybe I overreacted earlier, she thought guiltily. "Do you realize that we have to back to reality in two short days?"

"But, that's two days away," he pointed out, pulling her close.

"I wonder what the children are doing," Isabelle mused.

"Let me see. My darling child is spending her time studying incessantly for the O.W.L. tests and whining about the whole Viktor-Ron thing. I told her forgetting about both of them and becoming a nun sounded like a good option to me, but she's not listening. Kids."

She snorted. "And Harry's keeping Ron company at Phillip's place. I'm guessing since Ron's helping Phillip prepare for my divorce trial, Harry's stuck with Stephen all day. Abbie has a crush on Ron, so she's probably haunting the office."

"When's your trial?"

"In a week and a half. I have a very bad feeling about it, Sirius. Sergei made a motion to change the venue of the trial from Williamsburg to London, and won."

"What's the problem with that?"

"The court's more sympathetic to him. Our family's not exactly popular with the legal community in London."

"Very true. How good is Ron at law, anyway?"

"What, just in case he ends up with Hermione?" she joked.

"Exactly."

"Phillip says he has a natural talent for it. Which he's grateful for, because with Ron clerking for him, he can spend more time with the kids. They're really adjusting well, though. Abbie's doing very well in preschool, and Stephen's, well, Stephen. Do you know what he asked me last week?"

"What?" Sirius smiled at the animated look on her face.

"If I could teach him to dance so that he could impress his girlfriend."

"His girlfriend? Isn't he five?"

"That's what I told him. He then proceeded to inform me that he'll be six in June, and that he's already had two girlfriends."

"Do what?"

"Tell me about it. Oh, and he's kissed both of them. He's the sweetest little boy, but what a devil. I definitely wouldn't want my daughter dating him, that's for sure. But, _my_ daughter would probably take after her mother and be irresistibly attracted to you bad boys."

"Are you including me in that group?" he asked, slightly offended.

"Oh, come on. Don't even pretend, Sirius. I've heard all the stories about you. You and Stephen are cut out of the same mold. Y'all aren't exactly James Potter."

"And you aren't exactly Lily."

"You'd know, wouldn't you? Who's the better kisser – me, or my sister?"

"Uh, what are you talking about?" He turned bright red and started to take a step back.

"You know exactly what I'm talking about," she said, grabbing him so that he couldn't get away. "Did James know you had a fling with his girl?"

"Sort of," he replied defensively. "She wasn't his girl back then."

"So answer the question."

"Honestly, I'm not really sure," he said evasively. "I mean, I snogged Lily something like twenty-five years ago, and there's been a lot of women since then."

Isabelle raised her eyebrow, but didn't say a word.

"I didn't mean that. Well, I meant it, but I didn't mean to say it that way. What I meant, is that I don't remember your sister, or any of those other girls. You're all that matters to me."

"Nice recovery. Which completely proves my whole point. Be glad I like you bad."

"Oh, I am, trust me," he said, giving her a mischievous smile. "Enough talk about the kids. Let's worry about them in two days. Until then, you're the only thing on my mind."

"Is that a fact?" she managed to ask in between kisses.

"'Fraid so. As for your question earlier, definitely you, love."

"That's what I thought," she replied archly. Sirius just laughed.

-----

Isabelle wiped her forehead with the back of her hand, taking a break and leaning against the stair railing. For the past three hours, she and Sirius had begun meticulously going through every room of the house, trying to decide what was worth keeping as it is, keeping and storing in the attic, or throwing away. 

So far, they kept the kitchen and dining room mostly as-is, and got rid of the living room furniture. Isabelle said the room was like walking into a 1970's time warp. After shrinking and discarding the décor, she started disco dancing around the empty room, which made Sirius laugh hysterically.

"You know, the seventies were pretty good to me," he protested, sitting down on the staircase and looking up at her. She made a face.

"Sure, let's keep the furniture and call it 'retro'," she answered sarcastically. He gave her a hopeful look. "No, Disco Boy. Welcome to the nineties, where actual taste abounds. No way I'm bringing my nephew into a room that looks like it belongs in Saturday Night Fever."

"What's wrong with shag carpet and the disco ball?"

"I'll pretend you didn't ask that question," Isabelle replied, walking up the stairs. Grumbling about the death of his lava lamp, Sirius followed her to the upstairs hallway.

"Where to next?" he asked.

"Well, I've already cleaned out my room, which leaves your room, Lily and James' old bedroom, and the nursery. And the bathrooms, but they won't take very long at all."

He sighed. "This brings back so many old memories that I'm almost afraid to walk in the rooms. Isn't that crazy?"

"No. I feel the exact same way. But, if we actually want to live in this house again sometime in the future, we have to get it over with."

"I know. That's why I didn't bring Hermione into the house last week. I didn't know what we'd find, and I didn't know how she'd handle it. That, and it's technically not my house."

"Did you know that I've always owned this house, ever since Daddy died?"

"No, I didn't," he answered, surprised. She nodded.

"I'm really not sure why, but he divided up his property in his will among the three of us strangely. Petunia got all the money in the bank accounts. Which was a small fortune, from what I've heard. Lily got all of his investments, which was even more money. But, the only thing I inherited was this house. So, when I torched the garage, it was destroying my own property."

Sirius began cursing her father in a wide variety of languages; Isabelle counted at least nine, and those were just the ones she spoke as well.

"Anyway, this is the only property I retain in my own name," she interrupted him. As soon as she finished her sentence, he began swearing again. "Ok, that's enough, potty mouth. Pick a room, any room."

He grinned wickedly. "James and Lily's, of course."

"You're awful," she said, walking in the room and scanning it quickly. She picked up Lily's hairbrush, which still contained long red hairs. "This is so bizarre. I know we left the house this way on purpose, kind of Anne Frank and all, but still. It's creepy."

"No kidding. Now, this is what I'm talking about," he replied, opening the wardrobe and pulling out a slinky black nightgown.

"Sirius Black! Put that away _now_. There are just some things I don't want to think about my sister doing, ok?"

"What about this one? Or, this one?" He started emptying the drawer, much to Isabelle's dismay.

"Stop that! You're warping my fragile little mind."

"Well, since it's already warped, what do you think about this little number? These Preserving Charms are amazing," he mused. "Hey, this one would look pretty damn good on you."

"It would, but that's not the point. We're supposed to be cleaning here. And besides, what do you think Lily would say if she knew you were picturing her baby sister in an outfit like _that_?"

"Spoilsport." He frowned.

Giving Isabelle a grumpy look, he helped her sort through the contents of the room. It took an hour, but they finally emptied the room. Sirius levitated the boxes that were going in storage, and sent them into the attic. He poked his head into the bedroom.

"Guess we're going to my room now, huh?"

She nodded. "Scary place."

By the time she got to the room, she saw Sirius furiously trying to hide something. Pretending that she didn't see what he was doing, she walked to the wardrobe and opened it.

"Wow. You really were Disco Boy," she snorted.

"I told you the seventies were good to me."

"So, what's in your pocket?"

"Hmm?" he said innocently.

"Come on. What are you hiding?"

With an uncharacteristic shy smile, he pulled a notebook out of his pocket and enlarged it. Hesitatingly, he passed it to Isabelle, who opened it and flipped through the pages.

"Wow," she said, surprised. "I didn't know you could compose music."

"Well, these are guitar tabs, mostly, but yeah. When I was really little, Regina wanted to take art lessons, but Mummy P wouldn't let her walk to the conservatory after school by herself. There was no way James would've been caught dead near an arts school, so she begged and begged for me to go with her."

"And you said yes, of course."

"Not at first," he laughed. "She finally convinced me that playing guitar wasn't sissy, so I went with her. Turns out I was pretty good at guitar, and music theory. When I was about fifteen, I started teaching on holidays and stuff because there wasn't anything else I could learn. I used to write songs in my spare time, and that's my notebook."

"I didn't know that."

"No one did." He gave her a crooked, self-effacing grin.

"Do you still write songs?"

"Yeah," he answered quietly.

Isabelle's eyes widened. This was a completely different side to Sirius than she had ever seen before. Speechless, she simply stared at him.

"I don't play anymore, because my guitar was blown up, and I'm a little partial to it. Abuela had it made for me when I was about ten."

"The one you played when Hermione had colic?"

He blushed. "You heard me? She's the only person I've ever played for, actually. And, mostly because it put her to sleep. Gave me time to practice, too."

"Why don't you play for other people?" Her eyes narrowed.

"Because my father said playing the guitar was an incredible waste of time." He sighed, and rubbed his eyes. "So, I hid it. Why do you think I encouraged your dancing? Doing what you're good at is never a waste of time."

"And I always loved you for it."

Sirius sat down on the bed, obviously gathering his thoughts together. "When I was in prison, that's how I stayed sane. You know how it is in there."

"I made up choreography," she admitted. "Some of my best stuff, actually."

"After the shock wore off, grief and depression set in. I couldn't believe out of everyone, only Harry survived. And, his being sent to Petunia was like a death sentence, at least to his self-esteem. I'm still not sure what Dumbledore was thinking."

"I tried to take both of them with me," Isabelle said quietly.

"I figured, but I didn't want to ask. Anyway, all of the pain, the bad memories, just overwhelms you after a while. I tried to fight it, but it's useless, especially with Dementors stationed outside my cell almost constantly. So, I'd concentrate on the memory, and try to compose a song about it. I'd focus on every word, every chord, until I was satisfied with the way the song sounded."

"Sounded?"

He smiled at the puzzled look on her face. "I can hear the music in my head. Don't ask."

"I won't. How many songs did you write over the years?"

"At least a hundred."

Isabelle whistled through her teeth. "Wow. Have you ever written any of them down? I bet they're good."

"No, I haven't, and I won't, either. I'd just like to forget about that part of my life," he replied flatly.

She could tell the subject was closed, so she started packing up the room quietly, leaving Sirius to his thoughts.

"Hey, what are you doing?" he asked indignantly.

"I'm getting rid of all your junk," she replied, while emptying a drawer into a large box.

"Junk? Ok, let's get this straight. You've thrown away my lava lamp, disco ball, and now Furry?"

"Furry?"

"My pet rock."

"A pet rock named Furry. Sirius, you have lost your mind."

"No, Furry was cool. I charmed it to grow fur, walk around and bark. Toddler amusement," he shrugged. "She'd crawl around on the floor chasing it. Kept the kid occupied for hours, without having to take care of an actual pet."

Isabelle had to work very hard to keep her smile hidden at the nostalgic look on his face. "Softie. Tell you what. How about you confine your seventies shrine to your office at school? That way, everyone's happy. You get to relive the glory days of disco, and I don't have to look at it."

"What about my favorite butterfly collar shirt?" he asked hopefully.

"Don't push it."

Sirius rolled his eyes as Isabelle sealed up the boxes, and sent them flying into the attic.

"Well, I guess that leaves the nursery," she said, looking away.

"Guess so."

They both paused in the doorway for a minute longer than truly necessary, mentally reminiscing.

"I'm thinking we won't have a use for these anytime soon," Sirius said, looking at the cribs.

"I don't know," she mused wistfully. "We might need them sooner than you think."

Isabelle watched his face redden with anger. "Do you know something that I don't? Because if you do, I swear I'll kill Krum. She's not even of legal age. That's it – I'll put him in prison, let him rot there for a while, then I'll kill him. Slowly."

"Alright, I've had enough of your temper for one day. First off, I think it's a bit rich of you to naturally assume that Hermione would do something thoughtless and stupid that would result in the necessity of a crib, and Harry wouldn't."

"Harry's half Lily, and half perfect Potter, which means he's predisposed to be good and virtuous and all that. On the other hand, Hermione's half Potter, true, but she's also half me. And I remember when I was fifteen years old, and that scares me, ok?"

Isabelle glared at him. "Secondly, I was merely referring to the sad fact that the kids are almost grown up, and will have children of their own sooner than either of us are ready for. And third, as for your darling daughter, Krum's not the one I'd be worried about."

"Yeah, I know about her and Ron."

"And?"

"And, I wasn't too happy about it."

"Glad to see you're as much of a hypocrite as ever. You'd be even less happy if you knew what Ron was thinking during Potions class most of the time. Has to do with the Christmas tree." She grinned evilly.

"That was way too much information." He paused. "I'm not a hypocrite."

"Are too."

"I am not," he protested.

"Are too."

Isabelle decided to twist the knife. He deserved it for all of the "do as I say, not as I do" lectures he preached at her growing up.

"Santa baby, and hurry down the chimney tonight. Come and trim my Christmas tree with some decorations bought at Tiffany's," she sang in her most seductive voice.

"That was completely uncalled for." The irate look on his face only encouraged her.

"Santa baby," she put her arms around his neck and looked deeply into his eyes, "and hurry down the chimney tonight."

"Do you have a Madonna song for every occasion?" Sirius asked, exasperated.

"Pretty much," she replied.

"Why am I not surprised?"

She grinned before letting go of him. After running a finger across the top of the crib's railing for a minute, she turned to Sirius with a heartbroken look on her face. Concerned, he walked over to where she stood.

"What's the matter?"

"Just thinking about Kate, that's all," she answered sadly.

"Kate?"

Isabelle nodded. "I stopped dancing when I was pregnant with her, but kept teaching. Well, one day I was trying to help a student with her sloppy posture. Her name was Kate, and every time I said her name, the baby moved and kicked at me. I'm guessing she liked the name."

"How'd you get Katrina out of that?" Sirius wondered out loud.

"Well, I was going to just name her Kate, but Sergei didn't like that very much. Said it wasn't formal enough. So, I decided to name her Catriona, which is the Gaelic version of Catherine, my mum's name. When I had her, I kept telling the nurses her name was Catriona, but they thought I was overmedicated and delusional. Which is how Catriona became Katrina."

"Don't you just love it when other people change your kid's name?" he said sarcastically.

"Um, it's her first name," Isabelle reminded him.

"I told Regina it sounded dumb the whole time she was pregnant, so we reached a nice compromise. Leave it to Snape to mess that up."

"Dumb? Tell me how you really feel about it," she teased. "You know, it wouldn't kill you to have a cheerful moment."

He gave her a huge, goofy smile that made her laugh. "Sorry. These old memories bring out the worst in me, I think."

"Me, too. Ok, since I can safely say that both of us are definitely past our baby days, let's clear this room out," Isabelle said decisively. "So we can move on to other things."

"I like the sound of that."

"I thought you would."

* * *

**Author's Lament: **Furry was such a good rock, sigh. He was my faithful companion throughout the 7th grade until he was cruelly & brutally thrown out of a 2nd story window in history class. It's a wonder I was able to recover from the shock to become a history major later in life. He was so kind, always holding down my papers so the wind wouldn't blow them about. (Non-air conditioned rural middle school, ugh!)

So to honor my pet rock's memory, I decided to revive him in fictional form 10 years later (now 12). Like in real life, Furry's a small, shiny black rock. Yes, I named him for the irony. Why did I want a pet rock in the 7th grade? I have no idea. Maybe because my parents were children of the 70's, or maybe the early 90's were boring, or maybe I'm just weird.


	25. Chapter 23

Chapter 23

Isabelle sat at the kitchen table, looking through a stack of furniture catalogues. This house was her home, and she fully intended on updating and decorating it to her taste. She smiled. For years, ever since she was little, really, she enjoyed interior decorating.

Which is probably why I have so many properties, she decided. Each home has its own spirit, a character of sorts. She loved looking at each room, and figuring out how to make it unique, beautiful, and livable at the same time. And what could be a better project than redecorating her childhood home?

Humming, she jotted down ideas in a large notebook. Right now, she focused on the living room, mostly because it was empty and looked like a tomb. Eerie looking, she thought while wrinkling her nose. But, there was no way she was going to put the old decorations back up in the meantime. They were simply goofy looking.

"Find anything good yet?" Sirius asked, interrupting her train of thought.

"Uh-huh," she replied distractedly.

"Look, I was just thinking," he began somewhat nervously.

"That's a scary idea," she said without looking up.

"Cute. I was just wondering--"

"Yes?"

"About our relationship," he said in a rush.

This got Isabelle's attention. She looked across the table, curious about what he was going to say next.

"What about our relationship?" she asked slowly.

"Well, I mean, that is--"

"Sirius, you're stuttering."

"I know that."

"It's kind of cute. Not something you hear everyday." She smiled. "I'm glad you brought it up, because I wanted to talk to you about it anyway."

"Really?"

Sirius tried to be calm. After this week, he was absolutely certain that he wanted to spend the rest of his life with her. And all he wanted to say, but couldn't for some reason, is that he loved her and wanted to marry her.

Those words sound so simple in my mind, he thought, frustrated. Why can't I just spit it out?

"Well, you know I have a trial in a week."

He frowned, puzzled. What did this have to do with anything? "Yeah. So?"

"So, I think we should keep a low profile for a while."

"What?" His voice echoed throughout the house.

Isabelle bit her lip, which Sirius always thought was incredibly cute. "Sergei's already mad enough at me as it is. If he got word that we were together, I'm afraid that he might come after you. Or worse, the children."

"But, how would the trial affect anything? If you win, then what? He'll still be mad."

"And if I lose, then he'll nail me for adultery. Which would not only be true, it would be a huge amount of negative press for the family."

"We attract negative press as it is. I fail to see your point, Isabelle. What I understand is that it's all fine and good to shack up with me in one of the most secure locations in the world. But, the second we go back to our normal lives, I turn into some dirty little secret."

"It's not like that."

"Then, what is it like?" he thundered.

"I love you, Sirius," she said sincerely. "I really do, and I see where you're coming from. Trust me, I know I look pretty bad right now. But, you're never met Sergei, and I don't think you're anywhere near an expert on his behavior or reactions to situations. Four months ago, he went on a killing spree, murdering people just because they knew me. Do you think I want that to happen to you, or anyone else that I love? Sure, maybe I'm being overcautious, but I'd rather be a little overprotective than lose you. Shoot, I've spent my whole life wanting you. I'm not going to lose you now, just like everyone else I've ever loved."

He suddenly felt very stupid for yelling at her. "I'm sorry, Belle. I should've looked at it from your point of view."

"That's ok."

"No, it's not. If you want to keep a low profile, that's fine with me," he lied. "I wanted to talk to the kids about us anyway."

"Can you imagine the look on their faces?" she laughed.

"Hopefully they'll be ok with it. So, are you coming to the Grangers' with me, or do you have another convenient excuse to avoid the boredom?"

"Another convenient excuse. I made dinner plans for tomorrow night with Bill last week, and I can't stand up an old friend, can I?"

"That is so unfair."

"Life's not fair. The sooner you learn it, the better off you'll be," Isabelle rattled off.

Sirius gave her a dirty look. For some reason, the idea of her sharing an evening with Bill Weasley didn't settle well in his mind. However, in the interest of preventing another fight, he swallowed his concerns.

"What's that look for?" she laughed. "If you don't want to go to the Grangers' house, then don't."

"But--"

"But, nothing. Just don't go; I'm sure it won't hurt anyone's feelings if you got some urgent business or something." She shrugged.

"And what urgent business could that be?"

"Protecting your sanity? I don't know, Sirius. You exasperate me sometimes."

"Likewise. So, are you joining me on this urgent business?"

"I wish I could, but I'm not going to get back home until the day after tomorrow. I'm staying overnight in London, and then I'm hoping Bill will come to Hogsmeade with me for a while. I want to introduce him to Phillip; I really think they'll get along well."

Wonderful, Sirius thought sarcastically. Just great.

"You'll be home Sunday afternoon, then?" he asked evenly.

"I think so. Hey, you're not jealous, are you?" She narrowed her eyes.

Of course I am, he thought. You've given me every reason to be. First, you don't want to be seen in public with me, or let it be known that we're romantically involved. Then, you parade around with practically every guy you've ever snogged. Or worse.

"Of course not. Why would you think that?" he replied.

"No reason."

-----

Isabelle practically skipped through Diagon Alley on her way to meet Bill outside of the main building of Gringotts' bank. When she spotted her friend waiting at the bottom of the stairs, she grinned from ear to ear. 

"Wow," he whistled. "Looking good, Dungeon Girl. Seems like the holidays did you a world of good."

She simply nodded, giving him a coy smile. "They did."

"What's that look for?"

"Oh, Bill, you'll never guess in a million years," she gushed.

"Uh-oh. I don't know if I like the sound of that."

"You're such a worrywart. Come on, I'm absolutely starving."

"Since when do you have an actual appetite?" he asked, looking at her like she had sprouted another head.

"Since," she paused, "I don't know since when. But, I'm famished, so let's go already."

Isabelle took off through the busy street, with Bill following as closely as he could. After rejecting several restaurant choices, they decided on a tiny French café.

Bill studied her over the rim of his coffee cup; she was positively glowing. And that could only mean one thing, he thought suspiciously.

"So, did you manage to get over your lifelong crush?" he asked through narrowed eyes.

"In a manner of speaking," she replied, blushing a bit. "Please don't be mad at me, Bill. He followed me to Dover, and we--"

"I get the idea."

"Can't you be happy for me?"

"Isabelle, you're playing with fire. I've always told you that."

"And do you remember what I told you when you said that?"

"Yes. That you know that you're playing with fire, and that one day, you'll get burned. Probably very badly."

"But, I'm like a silly moth drawn to a flame. Just like me, the moth probably knows the fire will kill it. But, we go, just the same. Because right before we become nice and crispy, we feel pure happiness. And that one happy moment is worth all the rest."

Bill made a face. "How nice and philosophical."

"Thanks. Anytime."

"So, are you saying that you're about to become a crispy critter?"

"Basically." She sighed. "Especially when Severus finds out."

"Too bad I won't be there to witness the best fireworks display since that prank we pulled my fourth year."

"Actually, I wanted to talk to you about that," Isabelle began with her most winning smile.

"About what? No way am I going to be your personal bodyguard when Snape finds out that you shagged his mortal enemy."

"Nice choice of words."

"Anytime," he mimicked her.

"Anyway, you git, I'm not sure why right now, but I wanted you to come to Hogsmeade with me."

"And disturb your little love nest?"

"I cannot believe you just said that," Isabelle gasped.

"And I cannot believe you abandoned all of your common sense the second Sirius Black shows the least bit of interest in you. Was it worth all those years you spent pining away for him?"

"Bill!"

"What? It was a perfectly innocent question."

"Ha. And for your information, yes, it was. Happy now?" she huffed.

"Thrilled." His voice dripped with sarcasm. "But, yeah, I'll go with you to Hogsmeade."

Isabelle smiled happily. For the first time in her life, everyone she loved would be in the same place at the same time. It was like a little piece of heaven on earth.

"Oh, if you don't mind, could you keep the whole Sirius thing quiet? The kids don't know, and it would hurt my trial next week."

Bill put his head in his hands. "Things really don't change, do they?"

"Sorry," she apologized, diving into her dinner. "Wow, this is divine. I could eat five of these."

"You're scaring me."

"As Sirius would say, I'm just a scary person," she replied. Bill rolled his eyes.

"Hey, why don't we go to Hogsmeade now instead of spending the night here?" Isabelle asked excitedly.

"Isn't Ron staying with Phillip?"

"Yup. So's Harry. Come on – it'll be fun."

"You don't have to convince me. I've wanted to meet this Phillip guy for a long, long time. I'd love to trade stories." An evil grin spread across Bill's face.

"Oh, no," Isabelle moaned.

"Oh, yes. Let's go already."

Sighing, she Apperated in Hogsmeade's town square and led Bill to Phillip's large flat in the center of town. She knocked on the door and was greeted by a wound-up Stephen.

"Uncle Phillip! Aunt Isabelle's here with a strange man that's not Sirius," he hollered down the hallway.

"That strange man is my oldest brother Bill," Ron called out from the living room.

"Oh, sorry. Uncle Phillip! Aunt Isabelle's here with Ron's brother Bill," he corrected himself.

Trying their best not to burst into hysterical laughter, which would only encourage Stephen, they followed him into the living room.

"Hey, Harry," Isabelle greeted her nephew, ruffling his hair. "Did you have a good holiday?"

"Sure did," he replied. "Well, as good as it gets without Ginny."

Both Bill and Ron gave him a withering stare. Isabelle snickered, as Phillip walked into the living room carrying Abbie, who buried her head in his shoulder the second she saw Bill.

"Phillip, this is Ron's older brother Bill. My partner in crime when I was at Hogwarts," Isabelle said.

The two men studied each other for a minute, and broke into identical evil grins.

"Um, I think I'll be going home now," Isabelle said, trying to make a run for the door. Phillip caught one arm, and Bill got the other.

"But the party's just getting started," Phillip protested. "What kind of host would I be if I didn't offer my houseguests a drink?"

"And what kind of houseguest would I be if I didn't stay for a few rounds?" Bill replied innocently.

"Yeah, Barbie, cop a squat." Phillip picked her up and plopped her into a chair.

"Barbie?" Harry said, wrinkling his nose.

"Barbie, Gumby, pretzel, whatever." Phillip shrugged. Isabelle shot him a look that would melt the polar ice caps instantly.

"Shut your mouth before I shut it for you," she warned.

"No, I'd love to hear about Aunt Isabelle when she was at Hogwarts and in America," Harry said.

"If you're going to insist on humiliating me, please put certain individuals to bed first," she hissed in Phillip's ear.

"Can do," he said cheerfully. "Come on Stephen. It's time for bed."

"No fair. How come I don't get to stay up, too?" he whined.

"Because they're three times as old as you. You'll see them in the morning," his uncle said in a stern tone of voice.

"Fine." Stephen stomped up the stairs, followed by Phillip and Abbie.

"Why did Phillip call you Barbie?" Harry wanted to know. "It's a Muggle doll, right?"

"Right. It's my redneck name," she said disdainfully.

"Your what?" Bill hooted.

"My redneck name," she repeated, swatting at him. "When I first moved to America, Phillip and the rest of the group thought Isabelle wasn't country enough. So, they nicknamed me Barbie because I was tall and thin like the doll. And, I drove a Corvette that looked like the Barbie Corvette. Except mine was black, not pink, thank you very much."

"Minor details," Phillip said, walking back into the room.

"What's a Gumby?" Ron asked curiously.

"A green blob thing on a television show," Isabelle said, giving Phillip a mean look.

"Why would you call her a green blob thing?"

"Because Gumby could bend in all directions, just like your aunt," Phillip replied with a wicked smile.

"Too much information." Harry made a face.

"Really?" Ron raised an eyebrow. "That's why they called you pretzel, too?"

"Yes." Isabelle began to wish she were back in Dover with Sirius.

"Do it," Phillip egged her on.

"You won't shut up until I do, will you?"

He shook his head no, so Isabelle sighed and stood up. After stretching for a minute, she sat on the floor in a split. She raised her body off the ground, supporting her full weight with her hands. Slowly, she bent both legs behind her head so that she truly looked like a human pretzel.

"Wicked," Ron whistled through his teeth, clearly impressed. Harry jabbed him with his elbow.

"That's my aunt," he said, more than slightly annoyed.

"So? She's a hottie," Ron shrugged. "I don't want to hear a word from you, considering that you're with my baby sister."

"Fine, I won't tell you, then."

"Tell me what?"

"Oh, nothing."

"I don't care that you're my best mate, I swear I'll kill you if--"

"If what? I can promise you that I haven't done anything with your baby sister that you haven't done with my cousin," Harry said, smiling triumphantly as Ron's face reddened.

"You're dead, Potter."

"Likewise. Did you know Sirius knows about your Christmas fun?"

"What?" Ron hissed. He suddenly felt completely paralyzed.

"Yup. And since you don't want to hear a word from me, I won't tell you how he found out." Harry watched his mouth open and close like a fish. "Hey, Phillip, do you have a redneck name, too?"

"It's Phil. Totally boring," Isabelle said.

"And that time the two of you skipped History of Magic. Oh, and Valentine's Day," Harry whispered so that only Ron could hear.

"Does she tell you everything?" he asked in a daze.

"Sure does. In great detail."

Ron looked like he was going to be violently ill. Satisfied the he proved his point, Harry focused on Isabelle, who had a similar look on her face as Ron.

"Ok, how did you first meet her?" Bill asked Phillip. "No, wait. Let me guess. She was outside at night, looking at the stars."

"Yeah, how did you know that?" Phillip was amazed.

"Because she's always done that, ever since I first met her when she was eleven years old."

"She's fancied him that long?"

"Fancied who?" Harry asked, wide-eyed. This night was proving to be quite entertaining.

"Hmmm?" Isabelle said innocently. Phillip rolled his eyes.

"Oh, come on, Barbie. Let's think about this intellectually. Anything you tell either Ron or I is automatically protected by the attorney-client privilege. And, Bill already knows about your lifelong crush."

"Which leaves Harry," she pointed out.

"Wait a minute. Ron's not a lawyer, so why is he under that attorney-client thing?" Bill asked, frowning.

"Not a lawyer yet," his brother replied somewhat huffily. "I'm a law clerk, so I handle sensitive, confidential information just like the lawyers do. So, I'm under the same ethical obligations."

"Already spurting out legalese. I feel sorry for your girlfriend during law school," Isabelle teased.

"Was it really that bad?" Phillip asked.

"Nah." She winked.

"Let's get back on point here. So, Aunt Isabelle, how long have you fancied Sirius?" Harry asked with a devilish grin. Her jaw dropped.

"You are your father's son," she breathed.

"That's not an answer."

"Harry James Potter, if you even think about telling anyone about this, I swear--"

"You swear what?" He stretched out his legs lazily. "Don't worry, I won't tell, even though you can't blackmail me. Like some people I know."

"That's comforting." Isabelle rubbed her eyes with the back of her hand. This was turning into the longest night of her life.

"So, what are we going to hear about first – Aunt Isabelle at Hogwarts, or in America?" Harry inquired.

"Neither?" Isabelle offered hopefully.

"I vote for the Barbie years. All in favor?" Bill asked, raising his hand. Ron and Harry both quickly followed suit. "Majority rules. Take it away, Phillip."

A slow smile spread across his face. "Well, I remember the day when she and Bubba moved into the apartment complex."

"Bubba?" Harry interrupted. "Snape's redneck name is Bubba?"

Ron rolled around on the floor for a minute before regaining his composure. "You know about Snape?"

"Yeah. Let me guess – that attorney-client thingy," Harry said sarcastically.

"It was in the file." Ron gave Phillip a sheepish look. "Sorry."

"That's ok. Just don't go breaking ethical rules or calling Snape Bubba. I think he'd kill you," Phillip warned. "Anyway, they lived in the apartment across the hallway from me, Thomas and Jake."

"I can't get your family tree straight. It's worse than mine," Harry admitted.

"Ok. I'm the oldest of three. There's Thomas, Brittany, and me. Our best friends growing up were Jake and Sarah Lindsay Parker. Thomas married Sarah Lindsay, and Brittany unfortunately married Jake. Abbie's father is Thomas, and Stephen's mom is Brittany. Got it?"

"Good to go."

"So, we were throwing a party one weekend, and Barbie here sneaks over to see what's going on," Phillip continued.

"Um, talk about culture shock!" Isabelle exclaimed. "There were people everywhere in this dingy apartment listening to this bizarre junk they called music."

"Yeah, we made a redneck out of you, though," Phillip proclaimed proudly. "Soon you were sporting the accent and everything. Admit it—you like country music."

"Um, it was either like it or die," she said dramatically.

"What did y'all do for fun?" Ron asked.

"You said y'all!" Isabelle screeched hysterically. "You're getting sucked into the hillbilly vortex, too!"

"Well, used to go rootin'," Phillip said in a nostalgic tone of voice.

"What in the world?" Bill gave him a weird look.

"Ok, it's where a bunch of good old boys pile into their jacked-up trucks with really big mud tires on them. Usually a Toyota pick-up or a Chevy. Anyway, then they ride around and drive through mud." She made a face.

"What's the point?" Harry asked.

"The point is not to get stuck, or as Phillip calls it, 'temporarily detained'. One time, Thomas' friend Jeremy got his Yota stuck almost vertically in this huge pile of mud beside the river. Well, it sank two feet overnight and it took forever to get it out."

"Thrilling. Y'all are easily amused," Ron said, emphasizing the 'y'all'.

"Welcome to the redneck universe. When we weren't rootin', we hunted, fished and played pool," Phillip said. "Don't play with Isabelle, though. She cheats."

"I do not," she huffed.

"Prove it."

"You're on."

"Harry, you're about to witness your aunt, the biggest cheater on planet earth," Phillip said, taking a miniature pool table off a high shelf and placing it on the floor. He enlarged it along with several pool sticks, and passed them around the group.

"Well, there's five of us, so one of the teams has to have an extra person," Isabelle mused. "In the interest of fairness, I'll even let you pick first, Phillip."

"How generous. Have any of you played pool before?" They shook their heads no. "Great. I pick Ron. You can have Harry and Bill."

"Oooh, someone's confident in his skills, isn't he?" she teased.

"Maybe. How about some mood music?"

Suddenly, loud country music filled the room. Isabelle and Phillip laughed at the awful look on everyone else's face.

"What's wrong with Garth Brooks?" she asked innocently.

"People listen to this?" Harry asked, giving her a sour look.

"Lots of people," she insisted. He didn't look convinced.

After briefly explaining the rules of pool, the playing and betting began. Harry quickly realized what Phillip was talking about when Isabelle shot water at him from the end of her pool stick to break his concentration.

"Cheater," he mumbled while wiping off his face.

"It's not cheating. It's creative strategy."

Phillip grabbed her wrists and started dancing her around the pool table right as she took a shot. The pool cue bounced off the side of the table and landed on Ron's foot.

"Ouch!" he exclaimed.

"Cheater." Isabelle put her hands on her hips.

"What kind of dancing was that?" Harry asked.

"Country line-dancing. It's really popular back home," she replied. "There's fast and slow dancing like other types of dance, just with a little country twist."

"Was that a two-step?" Ron inquired.

"No, a two-step's the main slow dance step. Well, it can be fast or slow, but most guys can only do slow dances. This is what it looks like." She grabbed Phillip and danced in front of the window (the only available floor space) with him for a minute. "See? It's a really simple step. Now, let's get back to this game, especially since my team's kicking tail."

Unknown to Isabelle, Sirius passed by the window right when she started dancing with Phillip. He decided to plead "urgent business" and go back to Hogwarts a day early. Phillip's flat was on the route home, and he unconsciously looked up as he passed the flat.

Stunned, he watched a laughing Isabelle dance around the room with Phillip. Not only did they look far too cozy for his comfort level, she was supposed to be in London tonight. With Bill Weasley, who was nowhere to be seen.

What was she doing? he wondered, turning on his heel and walking away. He felt like someone had kicked him in the gut and knocked the wind out of his lungs.

-----

Isabelle yawned, stretched and headed towards the kitchen. She felt like a herd of rhinos had trampled on her head, followed closely by stampeding elephants. The clock sounded nine o'clock in the morning, its cheerful chime echoing in her head. 

"Ow," she groaned, clutching her head.

Thundering footsteps reverberated through the hall and into the kitchen, announcing Stephen's presence in the room. That boy really needs an off switch, Isabelle thought wryly.

"Good morning," he said, plopping into a chair at the kitchen table.

"Morning yourself."

"Are you still going to teach me to dance?"

"I reckon. Although I think you're a little young for a steady girlfriend," Isabelle said, raising an eyebrow.

"Oh, I broke up with her the other day," Stephen replied dismissively. "She wasn't really my type."

You're five years old, she thought as she shook her head. How can you have a type?

"Ok, why wasn't she your type?"

"Because she's blonde. I'm tired of being surrounded by blonde girls. I'm going to get married eventually and have kids, and I want dark-haired children."

"Um, why?"

He grinned. "Because I want to name a daughter after my sister M.J., and she had black hair."

Isabelle's throat tightened as she fought back tears. Despite being a holy terror, he really is a sweet little boy, she decided.

"But, that's a long ways away. Until then, I've decided to be a free agent like Ron."

"A what?"

"A free agent. No way I'm getting attached to some girl."

"You are your father reincarnated," she muttered underneath her breath. "I feel sorry for any girl who tries to trap you."

-----

"Hey, forget something?" Remus asked, frowning as Sirius walked into the living room. He stood for a minute thinking, and then smacked his forehead with his hand. 

"Sorry, man. I got a little sidetracked." He smiled sheepishly.

"For a whole week? You could've owled me or something." His voice trailed off. "Wait a minute here. What's that smile for?"

"You know what for. I told you, I took a little side trip on the way home."

"Uh-huh. To where?"

"Dover."

"Alone?" Remus raised an eyebrow at Sirius' wicked grin. "I take that as a no."

"Take it any way you want."

"So, did you manage to propose?"

"No, I wanted to talk to the kids about it first."

"'Fraidy cat. Using your own kid as an excuse."

"Shut up."

"You know I'm right."

"So? Isabelle wants to keep things quiet anyway because of her pathetic git of an ex-husband's lawsuit. The trial's next Saturday. Which means I have exactly a week to work up my nerve. I did go get the ring polished last night."

"At Sara's shop? That's some nerve of yours."

"Nah. She did ask me to dinner, though."

Isabelle quietly let herself in the kitchen door, and padded through the room. She opened the refrigerator, looking for some ginger ale. Last night's fun did a real number on her stomach.

"And you actually went with her?" she heard Remus ask, exasperated. "Look, I couldn't exactly say no. Besides, it's wasn't completely unpleasant. She means nothing to me; you know that."

"Yeah, well, what if she got the wrong idea?"

Sirius snorted. "I think I made it plainly clear that I'm in love with someone else, don't you?"

Isabelle stiffened, her fingers frozen around her glass of ginger ale. Heartbroken, she turned and ran out of the kitchen before she could hear another word.

How could I have been so stupid? she thought as her eyes stung with tears. I'm not second best, I'm nothing at all.

-----

Wiping her tears on her sleeve and pressing the wrinkles out of her dress with her hands, Isabelle took a deep breath and walked through the front door. She hoped to maintain whatever little dignity she had left, and simply go upstairs, take an extremely long bubble bath, and go to bed. 

And talk to Remus about the conversation she overheard in the morning. It must be a misunderstanding, after all. Didn't Sirius say that I was his soul mate? she reminded herself, allowing herself a little smile. And all those days, and nights – they couldn't have been nothing, right? No one could possibly be that good of an actor.

Right? she thought, creeping up the staircase and opening her door. She turned on the light, and jumped.

"We need to talk," Sirius said in a forced tone.

"Not right now. I'm not in the mood," she replied tiredly.

"Wonder why?" The sarcasm practically dripped from his words.

"What are you talking about?" She was genuinely puzzled.

"Was your little game fun, Isabelle? Did you get some sort of rush from it?"

"What game?"

"Don't give me that sweet and innocent pile of crap. I don't want to hear it. I just want to know why me?"

Isabelle was on the verge of tears. What in the world was he saying, and why? "I don't understand."

"Well, let me refresh your memory. Last week, you, me, Dover."

"I remember that," she said, her voice becoming stronger. "I gave you all of me, Sirius. Unlike you."

"Please. This isn't about me; it's about you. No, actually, it's about every other guy you're shagging."

"I-I'm not with anyone else," she defended herself quietly.

"Ha. Isabelle, you leave me in Dover Saturday evening to have dinner with Bill Weasley. Then, why is it that I see you dancing with Phillip Spence in Hogsmeade, when you're supposed to be in London with Bill?"

"Be-because--"

"I'm not through yet. So, I'm thinking that I've completely overreacted and actually feel kind of stupid. Until I'm walking to my office and what do I see? You in the arms of Andrew Patil. Go ahead; deny it."

"It's not what you think," she protested, trying not to become hysterical.

"I'm not stupid, Isabelle. Let me see – Malfoy to get information on Lord Voldemort, Phillip Spence because he's your lawyer and you need him to battle your ex-husband and Andrew Patil because he's a Ministry spy. I'm not perfect, but at least I never used women to advance my own agendas. What's your agenda with me, huh? What do I have that you either want or need?" he mused.

"Nothing. Please stop," she begged.

"Not until I get the truth." He paused for a minute. "It's not money, or power. The children."

"What about them?"

"I have the children. So, if you're with me, you don't have to worry them being taken away from you? Is that it?" Sirius screamed.

"No," she sobbed. "I love you. Why can't you believe me?"

"You've changed over the years into this heartless, Machiavellian monster. I followed you to Dover, and you sensed my weakness. So, you make up this ridiculous story about being desperately in love with me ever since you were a young teenager. And I fell for it."

"It's true."

"Liar."

Isabelle couldn't hear any more. How dare he speak to her this way? She managed to stand up, and run out of the house into the pouring rain.

How ironic, she thought. The weather matches my mood.

She ran, and ran until her legs gave out right before she reached the lakeshore. Suddenly, she realized that she had nowhere to go. Home was where Sirius was, and she couldn't possibly go to Phillip's house. Bill was still there, and he would just say I told you so. Isabelle had never felt so hopelessly, desperately alone.


	26. Chapter 23: Unedited Ending

**Author's Note: **No wonder I'm switching from the HP boards! This is getting tedious. Alrighty, here's the last "unedited" scene of Part 5, & guess what? It's rated PG-15.

* * *

**Chapter 23: Unedited Ending**

Wiping her tears on her sleeve and pressing the wrinkles out of her dress with her hands, Isabelle took a deep breath and walked through the front door. She hoped to maintain whatever little dignity she had left, and simply go upstairs, take an extremely long bubble bath, and go to bed.

And talk to Remus about the conversation she overheard in the morning. It must be a misunderstanding, after all. Didn't Sirius say that I was his soul mate? she reminded herself, allowing herself a little smile. And all those days, and nights – they couldn't have been nothing, right? The conversations they had in the middle of the night, the way he looked at her when they made love; no one could possibly be that good of an actor.

Right? she thought, creeping up the staircase and opening her door. She turned on the light, and jumped.

"We need to talk," Sirius said in a forced tone.

"Not right now. I'm not in the mood," she replied tiredly.

"Wonder why?" The sarcasm practically dripped from his words.

"What are you talking about?" She was genuinely puzzled.

"Was your little game fun, Isabelle? Did you get some sort of rush from it?"

"What game?"

"Don't give me that sweet and innocent bullshit. I don't want to hear it. I just want to know why me?"

Isabelle was on the verge of tears. What in the world was he saying, and why? "I don't understand."

"Well, let me refresh your memory. Last week, you, me, Dover."

"I remember that," she said, her voice becoming stronger. "I gave you all of me, Sirius. Not just my body. I gave you my heart, my soul and my mind. Unlike you."

"More bullshit. You're just shoveling it tonight, aren't you? Real cute, Isabelle."

"No, what's bullshit is that you bothered to make love to me when your heart's still with Regina? What, did you pretend I was her?" she screeched.

"You have a lot of nerve bringing her up. This isn't about her; it's about us. No, actually, it's about every other guy you're shagging."

"What other guys?" she gasped, coloring slightly.

"The ones you're fucking for personal gain," he said calmly. Isabelle limply fell to the floor and covered her head with her hands. "You're like the Hogwarts version of Evita. No wonder you like that play so much."

"I-I'm not shagging anyone else," she defended herself quietly.

"Ha. Isabelle, you leave me in Dover Saturday evening to have dinner with Bill Weasley. Then, why is it that I see you dancing with Phillip Spence in Hogsmeade, when you're supposed to be in London with Bill?"

"Be-because--"

"I'm not through yet. So, I'm thinking that I've completely overreacted and actually feel kind of stupid. Until I'm walking to my office and what do I see? You in the arms of Andrew Patil. Go ahead; deny it."

"It's not what you think," she protested, trying not to become hysterical.

"I'm not stupid, Isabelle. You've even admitted that you've slept with Malfoy for no reason other than get information out of him. Personal gain. You serviced him and your husband at the same time; therefore, you don't even know who your own baby's father is."

"Stop it! I do know who her father is."

"Then tell me."

"No."

"Because you have no damn clue! Let me see. You're shagging Malfoy to get information on Lord Voldemort. Phillip Spence because he's your lawyer and you need him to battle your ex-husband. Andrew Patil because he was the first guy you ever screwed – ah, the memories – and because he's a Ministry spy. Provides quite a lot of useful information."

"Not a word that you've said is true. And to prove it, the first guy I was ever with was Ian Donaldson during fourth year." This was beyond humiliating to Isabelle.

"You were fourteen years old?" he thundered.

"Hypocrite."

"At least I never used women to advance my own agendas. What's your agenda with me, huh? What do I have that you either want or need?" he mused.

"Nothing. Please stop," she begged.

"Not until I get the truth." He paused for a minute. "It's not money, or power. The children."

"What about them?"

"I have the children. So, if you're shagging me, you don't have to worry them being taken away from you? Is that it?" Sirius screamed.

"No," she sobbed. "I love you. Why can't you believe me?"

"You've changed over the years into this heartless, Machiavellian monster. I followed you to Dover, and you sensed my weakness. So, you make up this cock and bull story about being desperately in love with me ever since you were a young teenager. And I fell for it."

"It's true."

"Liar. If you were in love with me, then why were you shagging other guys? Either way, you're nothing but a common whore."

Isabelle couldn't hear any more. How dare he speak to her this way? She managed to stand up, and run out of the house into the pouring rain.

How ironic, she thought. The weather matches my mood.

She ran, and ran until her legs gave out right before she reached the lakeshore. Suddenly, she realized that she had nowhere to go. Home was where Sirius was, and she couldn't possibly go to Phillip's house. Bill was still there, and he would just say I told you so. Isabelle had never felt so hopelessly, desperately alone.


	27. Chapter 24

**Chapter 24**

Isabelle became vaguely aware of footsteps near her, but she easily tuned them out as they faced away. She sniffled loudly, which alerted Severus to someone's presence in the dungeons. He crept around the room, wondering who on earth would hide in his dungeon classroom?

"Oh, Isabelle. What are you doing here?"

Her bloodshot eyes looked up at him briefly, but quickly returned to staring at the floor. "I don't want to talk about it."

"You can talk to me about anything, I swear." He sat down uncomfortably beside her on the cold, hard ground.

Where have I heard those words before? she thought miserably. Oh, yes. Last week, with Sirius in Dover. As soon as she thought his name, she broke down in loud sobs.

"Hey, what is it? Is it Remizov?"

She shook her head no. "I can't tell you. The last time I did something you disapproved of, you didn't talk to me for years."

"Which was an immature, petty mistake that I will regret for the rest of my life. What did you do?" he asked gently.

"I spent last week with Sirius," she whispered. "I'm so sorry."

She covered her head with her hands, expecting Severus' yelling, knowing what he was going to say. That she should've known better than to become involved with him, that it was obvious that Sirius didn't love her. And, that she deserved to be called a tramp.

Severus studied her for a minute. It was clear to him that this relationship had ended very, very badly. And, by the looks of her, she'd already put herself through enough misery. Her hair was damp, streaky, and hung down in her face haphazardly. When she uncovered her eyes, he saw that her face was swollen and puffy.

No, she doesn't need a lecture from me, he decided. "What happened?"

"W-we-well--" she spat out hysterically.

"Hey, let's start at the beginning, ok?" She managed to nod affirmatively. "Let me get this straight. You spent the week with Sirius Black?"

"In my old house in Dover."

"Ok, are you still with him?" She collapsed in body-shaking crying fits. "I'll take that as a no. Did he end things?"

"Yes."

"Did he give you a reason?"

Isabelle took a deep, calming breath, and briefly repeated her argument with Sirius. Well, as much of it as she could remember.

"Is anything he said true?" Severus asked, knowing the answer. He just wanted her to stand up for herself a bit.

"Of course not. Do I have a sign on my forehead saying, 'Hi, I'm a tramp,' or something?"

"No. You made a poor choice a long time ago, and Black was completely out of line to use it against you."

"But, I did choose to be with Malfoy," she pointed out.

"I don't think you had a choice, Isabelle. And, I honestly think Lucius knew that you were vulnerable and took complete advantage of you."

"He saved my life."

"Your reaction is exactly what I'm talking about. Have you ever heard of Stockholm Syndrome?"

"No."

At least she isn't crying anymore, Severus thought thankfully. He conjured up a blanket, which he wrapped around her shaking frame.

"Thank you," she said gratefully.

"You're welcome." He paused. "I'm trying to think of the best way to explain it to you. It's named after this really famous bank robbery in Stockholm, Sweden. There were some hostages, and eventually they refused to be released, or testify against the robbers. Basically, they came to sympathize with their captors."

"But, what does that have to do with me?"

"You're a textbook case, Isabelle. Remizov threw you into Azkaban, and Malfoy talked him into letting you out. What happened next? You were taken to Malfoy's house, the known friend of your abusive husband. Could you leave the house?"

"No."

"Did you feel like Remizov or Malfoy wanted to kill you, or might kill you at any time?"

"Yes," she answered in a barely audible voice. "But, Lucius was nice to me."

"You just think he was, but look at it logically. All he did was throw out some token niceness to you every now and then. Just like Remizov did. But, you tried your hardest to please them just to stay alive. That's what Stockholm Syndrome is."

"I couldn't die. Harry needed me."

Severus wrapped his arms around Isabelle, who felt as fragile as a bird. "I know he did. What I'm trying to tell you, perhaps not very well, is that it isn't your fault that Remizov hurt you. And, your affair with Malfoy was a natural, common reaction to being in a life-threatening situation. It happens all the time."

"Really?" A small ray of hope flashed in her eyes.

"Really. But, you managed to overcome all that on your own. You left both of them, for good. No one made you. You just picked up and left."

"I did, didn't I?"

"Yes, you did." He smiled at her. "Which means that Black's completely, totally wrong about what happened back then. Alright, since we're proving him wrong about your relationships one at a time, let's keep going in reverse order, shall we?"

"Sure." Isabelle was actually starting to feel a little better about herself.

"Which brings us to Phillip Spence, who we can both agree is the only functional relationship that you've ever had. He's a good guy, and a good friend."

"The best. What would've been worse – admitting the truth about Sirius, or marrying him just to have him find out later? I thought I was doing the right thing."

"You did do the right thing. And, just because y'all stayed friends doesn't mean you're with him now."

"Exactly."

"Ok, on to Patil. What were you doing with him yesterday?"

Tears welled up in the corners of Isabelle's big, hurt eyes. "When I went home yesterday morning, I overheard Sirius talking to Remus. And, Sirius said that I meant nothing to him. Which upset me, of course, so I ran to my office where I could be alone to throw a pity party in peace."

She took a deep breath before continuing. "Well, right before I got to my office, I bumped into Andrew. He asked what was wrong, and I just said that I was having a rough day. Then, I told him that Bill's at Phillip's house for a while. They're like twins separated at birth or something."

"I bet," Severus laughed.

"Well, Andrew and Bill used to be pretty good mates. But, they had a fight fifth year, and haven't spoken since, even though they both worked at Gringotts' bank. So, I convinced Andrew to go over there and mend some fences. Before he left, I gave him a hug for good luck. I guess that's what Sirius saw."

"Probably."

Isabelle gazed off in the distance for a minute, then looked back at Severus. "He said I was worthless. And do you know what the horrible thing is? Sirius is absolutely right. I've lived my entire life for him, and he made it pretty clear that he doesn't want me. So, everything I've ever done has no purpose or value. I'm useless."

She buried her head in his shoulder, sobbing uncontrollably. Severus held her for a minute, letting her cry out her anguish. Never, even when Lily died, had he ever seen her this broken. She was right of course – she built all her hopes and dreams around making Sirius Black happy, just for him to reject her efforts.

After a few minutes, she looked up at him. Her spirit, that fire in her eyes, was gone. That determined attitude to go on despite everything was gone as well. It was as if a little piece of her soul died, never to return. At that moment, Severus wanted to strangle Sirius for what he did to Isabelle. Couldn't he see what he meant to her?

That's what I'm afraid of, Severus admitted to himself. Either Isabelle is some flavor of the month to him, or he truly does love her. And I of all people certainly know what extremes Black will go to get the woman he wants.

Severus' eyes narrowed angrily. And if he wants her, then of course he'll come begging and pleading for Isabelle to forgive him. Naturally, she'll forgive him, which is the worst thing she could do in Severus' opinion. He sighed. He wanted Isabelle to be happy, but being with Sirius Black simply isn't healthy for her. But, he didn't know how to bring up the topic without sending her back into his arms. Very carefully, he decided.

"Isabelle, you are not worthless," he said with conviction, passing her a handkerchief.

"Thank you," she sniffled, blowing her nose loudly. "On top of everything else, I caught a terrible cold in Dover. My sinuses are killing me. Anyway, you don't have to lie to cheer me up."

"I'm not lying. Have I ever lied to you?"

"No."

"Isabelle, for starters, I couldn't imagine my life without you. I wouldn't have a job, for starters."

"That's true," she said in a small voice.

"And, you're a wonderful, funny, caring person. Your students adore you. Isabelle, remember at the beginning of the year, when you had the choice to come out of hiding or not?"

"Yes." She blew her nose again, in between sneezing fits.

"Didn't you say that you'd teach Harry no matter what Black chose to do?" She nodded. "So, obviously you have a purpose here. Your nephew still needs you."

"Yes, he does." She sighed. "Which means that I need to pull myself together and get past my messed up life. For him, if for nothing else."

"What are you going to do about Black?" Severus held his breath, waiting for her response. She bit her lip thoughtfully.

"Exactly the same thing I was planning to do before he showed up at Dover," Isabelle decided.

"Which was?"

"To get over him and move on with my life."

Severus could only stare at her, completely stunned. Never, in a million years, would he ever expect to hear those words come out of Isabelle Evans' mouth. This is going to be a lot easier than I ever imagined, he thought gratefully.

"Wh-what?" he said, stupefied.

"Yes," she replied sadly. "You're right. I have so much work to do; we're in a war here! There are far more important things to deal with than my sordid love life."

"It hurts, doesn't it?"

"Like a living death. Oh, why doesn't he want me?" she screamed. Her voice echoed through the dungeon classroom, and into the hallway. "What's so wrong with me?"

"Nothing," Severus said soothingly.

"Are you sure?"

"Absolutely positive." He put his arm around her. "Let me see here. Black turned down a woman who has a doctorate in chemistry and modeled for the Sports Illustrated Swimsuit Edition. Not to mention that whole human pretzel thing." She swatted at him. "Thanks for always being there for me, Sev. I really mean that. And, thank you for not saying I told you so."

"No problem. Hey, why don't you take the day off?"

"I just might. My Muggle Studies kids are supposed to be in the lab today, anyway." She looked at the clock. "Sirius usually leaves the house by now, so I won't have to deal with him. I could really use a bubble bath and some food. Grits, I think. And chocolate chip cookies."

"Hominy grits and chocolate chip cookies?" Severus wrinkled his nose at the combination.

"Yes. Sounds divine right about now. Dobby makes these wonderful double chocolate chip cookies that are the size of small dinner plates, and they just melt in your mouth. I could eat a dozen of them," she said hungrily.

Severus looked at her like she had suddenly been possessed by an alien life being. Not only was she talking about getting over Sirius Black, she was obsessing over food. After Isabelle gave him a quick hug and rushed out of the room, he shook his head violently to clear it. Today was already off to an interesting start.

-----

"I'm serious, Harry." 

"Serious about what?" he replied, distracted. Hermione looked up from her stack of outlines, incredibly annoyed.

"Do you ever hear a word I say?"

"I thought you weren't supposed to talk in the library," he reminded her. She was just a little too stressed about the O.W.L. tests, in his opinion. Besides, he really hadn't heard her, and didn't want to admit it.

"Prat." She closed her Arithmancy textbook, sighing. "I can't believe we have less than two months to study. I feel so incredibly unprepared."

"Then there's no hope for the rest of us," Harry muttered underneath his breath.

"What I was saying, is that I'm tired of all this drama. I feel like I'm living in the middle of a Muggle soap opera."

"In other words, you're sick of fighting with Ron. Welcome to the club. Might I remind you that I have to hear it from both of you?"

"Sorry." She truly looked contrite. "I'm just confused. I mean, look over there. He's at that table, surrounded by those Ravenclaw girls. What am I supposed to think about that?"

Harry looked across the room. "Maybe he's studying for the O.W.L. tests?"

"Do I have gullible written on my shoe? I thought not. See, that's the thing about Viktor. He's completely straightforward."

"Probably because he's been hit by one too many stray Bludgers. Krum's not your type."

"At least he's dependable."

"Boring, you mean. I never would've pictured you with a half brain-dead Quiddich star."

"I'm sitting here with you, aren't I?" she replied with an evil grin. He stared at her sourly, trying to think of a comeback.

"Anyway, I'm really sick of staring at Ron and those Ravenclaw bimbos," Hermione said cattily. "They're not even pretty. Look at Caitlin with that stringy hair. Hasn't she heard of hair gel? And Vanessa with that hideous purple eye shadow. She looks like someone gave her a black eye. Oh, and Amanda. There are too many fashions sins to even mention."

"I think they're pretty cute."

"Harry, I seriously think you need to get your eyes checked."

"Probably do. I'm stuck looking at you most of the day."

"Cute, Potter. So, are you ready to go back to the dorm?" Suddenly, her eyes got a wicked glint. "Hey, do you still have your Invisibility Cloak?"

"Yeah," he said slowly. He really didn't like the look on her face. It always meant trouble.

"I think those Ravenclaw hoochies need to be taught a lesson, Gryffindor style."

"Didn't you say five minutes ago that you were sick of drama?"

"This isn't drama. It's war."

"What have any of those girls ever done to you?" Harry pointed out.

"You're a guy. You wouldn't understand," she huffed.

"Obviously not."

"So, are you in, or not? Come on, we're Prefects, for crying out loud. We're allowed to be out after hours in the first place. Besides, if Snape catches us, Isabelle will get us out of trouble." Hermione's eyes lit up. "Why didn't I think of her in the first place? Come on, Harry. Let's go find her. I bet she'd have good prank advice."

"Uh, I'm not sure if this is a good idea."

"You're being such a prude, Harry Potter," she huffed, packing her bookbag.

She turned on her heel crisply, and marched out of the library, not even giving Ron a passing glance as she walked by. Harry sighed, and ran after her. After all, hadn't she broken rules with him and gone along with all of his pranks through the years? Besides, he was curious about what Isabelle would tell her.

"Hey, Hermione – wait up," he called down the hall. She stopped, and turned around with a sly grin.

"I knew you wouldn't let me down. It's time to show the rest of the family what we're made of," she said devilishly. "Do you think we should look for Isabelle in her office or at home first?"

"Probably in her office. It's just down the hall, anyway."

"Sounds good to me."

As they walked down the empty corridor, two angry voices spilled into the hallway. Harry and Hermione looked at each other nervously because they recognized the voices immediately. Motioning for him to tiptoe along the wall closest to Isabelle's office door, Hermione crept closer, dying to know what the fight was about.

"Sirius, get out of my office now," she heard Isabelle yell. "I came here tonight precisely because I didn't want to deal with you."

"Please, just give me five minutes," he pleaded in a tone of voice neither teenager had ever heard before.

"I've given you enough of my time. Wouldn't you agree that the past twenty-three years is sufficient?"

"Just hear me out."

Both Harry and Hermione's jaws dropped at the same time. Never before, and probably never again, would they hear Sirius Black beg for anything.

"I've heard enough." Isabelle's voice was pure ice. "Besides, I believe we have visitors. After all, these are my regular office hours, and I am a professor."

"Quit trying to avoid me, please."

"And quit bothering me." Her voice suddenly sounded old and tired.

"Can't you see where I was coming from?"

"Absolutely not. And no one deserves to be called the names you called me, even if they are true. So, please leave before I throw you out."

"Fine." He banged his fist on the desk. At least, Harry thought it was his fist. "I'll leave for now. But, I'm not going to leave you alone, Isabelle. Not until you listen to me."

"Is that a threat?" Her voice was sharp and irate.

"It's a fact."

"You know what? You think that just because you're Sirius Black, whatever you say happens and whatever you want, you get. Well, I have a news flash for you. You can't just wish back last night. And I'm not just going to forgive you, like I would've when I was little. Guess what? I grew up, and I have more self-respect than that."

"I know you grew up. Isabelle--"

"No, don't Isabelle me, like I'm some unruly child and you're the scolding parent. Right now, you're no better than Sergei. You're using his tactics. Guess that figures, because I married him because he reminded me of you." She laughed hollowly. "Now I really know how much the two of you are alike."

"That was low."

"So was you calling me…what was it? Oh, yes." Isabelle started reciting a list of names that made Harry and Hermione gasp.

"Maybe we should come back tomorrow," Hermione whispered.

"Exactly what I was thinking," Harry replied.

They snuck down the hallway, desperately hoping that Isabelle forgot that they were lurking outside her office.

-----

"Ok, let's recap here," Hermione said, squinting at Harry. She stretched out her legs, enjoying the warm spring sun. It was almost worth skipping afternoon classes. Almost. 

"So far, all I have is that Sirius called my aunt every name in the book. And, if he hurts her any more than he already has--" Harry cracked his knuckles angrily. How dare he speak to his Aunt Isabelle that way?

"Well, maybe she did do some of that stuff." Harry glared at her. "Yeah, you're right. She wouldn't do any of that in a million years. Now what?"

"Punch the git a few times."

"That really solves things."

"What can we do? If we admit that we overheard their conversation, we're dead."

"Very true." Hermione sighed. "So, I wonder if they were just arguing about Isabelle's love life for the heck of it, or if it was some sort of lover's quarrel?"

"Lover's quarrel? You really need to stop reading those romance novels."

She made a face at him. "Seriously."

"I don't know, Hermione." He yawned. "I need to meet Ginny before History of Magic. See you there?"

"Yeah. Don't forget we're going to Isabelle's office after class," she yelled at his retreating form.

Hermione tapped her fingers impatiently throughout History of Magic. Not only did she want class to hurry up and end, her tapping had the added side effect of irritating Ron. Although he pretended not to hear her, she could see his ears growing progressively redder as class wore on.

"Must you do everything to irk his everlasting nerve?" Harry hissed in her ear.

"Pretty much," she whispered back cheerfully.

Harry rolled his eyes, and was very thankful when class was over. He and Hermione made a beeline to Isabelle's office, hoping to catch her before another student knocked on her door. She was easily the most popular professor in the entire school, and students haunted her office constantly for anything from help with Potions homework to the perfect outfit to wear on a date. Harry quietly rapped on the door.

"Come in," she called out, smiling broadly when they walked into the room and sat down. "How are you guys?"

"We're ok," Hermione sighed, slouching.

"Just ok?" Isabelle raised an eyebrow.

"Yeah," she said quietly. Suddenly, she realized that being around Isabelle might not be the best idea right now.

"Alright, what's up?" She looked from one teenager to the other, narrowing her eyes.

"Explain this one to me, Aunt Isabelle. The prat over there says that she's sick of all the drama in her life, but she wants you to help her plan a prank on the Ravenclaw girls."

"Yes, the stupid bimbos that keep hanging all over Ron. It's sickening."

"Oh, yeah. The ones who should be arrested by the fashion police." Isabelle wrinkled her nose.

"Thank you," Hermione said, vindicated.

"I think they're cute," Harry replied, defending them again.

"You definitely need to see an optometrist, then," Isabelle told him, making a face. Hermione laughed.

"Are the two of you twins or something?" Harry asked, exasperated.

"No, it's just called taste," Hermione huffed.

"Definitely," Isabelle agreed. "Ok, I have two quick questions. One, why do you have issues with those Ravenclaw girls? And second, why are you coming to me for help."

"One, those girls know, I know they do, that Ron and I are sort of seeing each other. That one girl, Caitlin, loves to trick Ron into being her partner during Astronomy labs and then tries to get all romantic with him. And then, she always picks the telescope closest to mine and talks in this loud, fake voice, knowing that I can hear her. Wench," Hermione replied angrily. "Oh, and two – we've heard around that you're the all-time master of really ingenious pranks."

"Oh, thank you." Isabelle beamed, yawning. "Sorry. I've been really exhausted lately. It's probably this bloody cold. I just can't seem to shake it."

"Maybe you should take a nap," Harry offered helpfully.

"I just might. After I help y'all with your prank, of course," she said with a wicked gleam in her eyes. She sneezed loudly.

Hermione clasped her hands together excitedly. "Great! What do you have in mind?"

"Depends on whether y'all just want to play a fun prank, or become legends," Isabelle said mysteriously. "There's one prank that no one, not your parents, not Bill and I, or Fred and George has ever been able to pull off."

"We'll go with that one," Hermione replied in a rush.

"Ok. Anyone can sneak into the Ravenclaw dorm or mess with their table in the Great Hall. That's elementary stuff." She paused for dramatic effect. The kids hung on her every word.

"What? What is it?" Harry asked impatiently.

Isabelle looked at their curious, impatient faces and smiled, filing away the moment in her memory. Being around them makes everything else worth it, even dealing with Sergei, she decided.

And Sirius, for that matter, she reminded herself. Enjoy these moments, just in case he takes them away from you. She took a deep breath, and leaned over the desk dramatically.

"If y'all get caught or busted later, both of you will be expelled. I don't think your good names, grades or money could get you out of this one. That's why I never tried it – I was always in danger of being expelled."

"Wicked." Harry looked at his aunt in awe.

"Yeah, I think I hold the record for detention, at least before Fred and George came here. Anyway, if y'all get caught, I'm going to deny any knowledge of your prank. Got that?"

Both teenagers nodded, wide-eyed.

"This is like an episode of Mission Impossible," Hermione said, clasping her hands together excitedly.

"This is an impossible mission," Isabelle replied seriously. "As y'all know, there's a Quiddich match between Ravenclaw and Slytherin this Saturday."

"I like where this is going," Harry drawled. Whichever team won this match played Gryffindor for the house cup, and a good prank on the opposing teams would definitely inspire house spirit.

"And, as you know Harry, Madame Hooch keeps not only the game balls but also the uniforms under strict watch until shortly before the game."

"Why?" Hermione asked.

"To prevent cheating," Harry said in a rush. "So, what's the prank?"

Isabelle took out a legal pad and ballpoint pen. "It's an intricate series of charms that Bill, Andrew and I came up with when I was in fifth year. Unfortunately, all of us landed on academic probation for a little prank that we pulled on Slytherin that prevented us from doing this one. Glad to know our efforts won't go to waste after all."

"Ok," she began, scribbling down a list of lengthy charms, "the first step is to break into Madame Hooch's office and charm her whistle, the Quiddich balls, and the Ravenclaw uniforms."

"Uh, how do we get into her office?" Hermione asked practically. Isabelle rolled her eyes.

"You have an Invisibility Cloak, the Marauder's Map and you're a prefect. I'm sure you can figure something out. Anyway, this prank will only work if you get each step exactly right. One charm works off another, like a domino effect. The first charm that sets everything else off is Madame Hooch's whistle. As soon as she whistles for the game to start, the fun begins."

"What's going to happen?" Harry wondered if he was over his head, which, he probably was.

Isabelle laughed evilly. "Oh, several things. First, the Ravenclaw uniforms will instantly change into Gryffindor uniforms. Then, the Slytherin uniforms will read fun stuff like, 'I wish I was a Gryffindor and Slytherins Stink.' After the Slytherin uniforms change writing, everyone wearing either Slytherin or Ravenclaw colors will have their clothes turn into Gryffindor colors. Oh, and their hair will glow scarlet and gold. It'll be quite festive."

"That explains the whistle and the uniforms. But, why do we need to charm the balls?" Harry asked, beginning to get an awful feeling in the pit of his stomach. No wonder Isabelle said that she would deny any knowledge of this prank.

"That's the best part. Whenever anyone throws a Quaffle towards the goal posts, the ball will automatically enlarge and won't go through the hoop. The Bludgers will just run around the field aimlessly. As for the Snitch, it'll fly faster than the sound barrier for an hour. Then, it'll slow down. Basically, it'll be the lowest scoring game ever."

"Is there any way we can turn those Ravenclaw hoochies into hags for six hours or so?" Hermione asked wistfully.

"Sure." Isabelle added a couple of lines to the list, and drew an arrow where they belonged in the sequence. She passed Hermione the pad of paper. "All of these charms are completely unbreakable. Trust me – the two people who perfected the sequence are now Gringotts' bank's best charm breakers. And, I'm not so bad myself."

"Flitwick's going to have kittens," Harry said, laughing.

"No joke. Not to mention what Snape will do. He's not in a particularly good humor these days to start with."

"Wait a second. When will the charms wear off?" Harry puzzled.

"As soon as Madame Hooch blows the whistle at the end of the match."

"What do we do when Snape drags us into Dumbledore's office and tries to give us truth serum and everything else under the sun?" Hermione worried.

"Act perfectly polite and agree to the Veritaserum. But, before you take the potion, be sure to swallow this." Isabelle opened her desk drawer and pulled out two tiny vials filled with a pale blue liquid. "It's the antidote to Veritaserum. Snape doesn't even know that I can make it, so no one can point any fingers to me. That is, if y'all cover your tracks."

Harry looked at his aunt completely amazed. Is there anything that she can't do? he wondered. What kind of a super genius is she? He looked at Hermione, and could tell that she was thinking the exact same thing.

"We will," Harry said determinedly.

"Definitely. Thanks for everything, Isabelle," Hermione added.

"No problem. Break a leg." She smiled and shook her head as they left the office, probably going off to plan the details of the prank.


	28. Chapter 25

**Chapter 25**

"Are you sure that no one comes to the lab at this time of night?" Harry whispered loudly as Hermione deftly opened the Muggle Studies lab.

"Positive."

"How do you know?" He crossed his arms and glared at Hermione, whose face turned bright red.

"I just do. Lumos." She walked over to one of the sofas, and flopped down. "Are you coming in, or what?"

"I guess." He closed the door and sat down on the floor next to her. She extinguished the light. "There, that's better. So, do you think we can pull off this prank?"

"Oh, come on. The hardest part is breaking into Hooch's office."

"Right. We always have to turn in our uniforms the Thursday before a match, so I'm thinking really early Friday morning would be the best time," Harry strategized.

"Before daylight, though. What's our excuse if we get caught in the hallways?"

"Uh, we were up studying for the O.W.L. tests. Every professor knows how neurotic you are. Why do you study so much, anyway?"

"Because someone told me when I was a little girl that an education is a woman's greatest and hardest won asset. I think it's a quote from Veronica Franco or someone like that."

"Who told you that?"

"Why do you ask so many questions?" Hermione asked sharply.

"I'm related to you. Anyway, does my plan sound good to you?"

"Yup."

"Hey, what are you going to do this summer?" Harry changed the subject.

"What do you think? Rotting at my parents house," she replied sourly.

"Why don't you tell Sirius that you don't want to go there for the summer?"

"I tried. He won't listen. I hate being so removed from the wizarding world, especially with the Death Eater attacks and everything. It's not like their house is secure. There aren't any anti-Apperation charms or restrictions on the Floo network or anything."

"How would you know there aren't any security precautions? You act like wizards can just pop over your parents' house whenever they feel like it," he said somewhat sarcastically.

"They can," she said earnestly. "I swear."

"I'm sure that there are plenty of protections around your parents' house. We are the last Gryffindors and everything," he said in a spooky voice.

"Yeah, what's up with that? Has anyone ever explained why that's important to you?"

"Nope. It's one of those we'll explain it to you when you're ready things."

"That's what Professor Dumbledore told me, too. A load of crock, if you ask me. Who cares what my bloodline is? All that talk makes me feel like a poodle or something."

Harry laughed. "You had to just randomly pick the world's most neurotic dog, didn't you? Birds of a feather…"

"You really think you're funny, don't you? Anyway, what are you doing this summer?"

"I'm not sure. Fred and George are staying in Hogsmeade after graduation. Don't tell anyone, but Aunt Isabelle's heading up a highly secretive alliance against both Voldemort and the Ministry. She, and the people working with her, thinks that the Ministry isn't fighting Voldemort the way they need to. Point being, Fred and George are turning double agent."

"Really?"

"Yeah, their legitimate business is going to be the joke shop they always wanted to open. But, they're also developing new charms and weapons for the Ministry to use against Voldemort. Whatever they create they're giving to Aunt Isabelle along with information about the Ministry's tactics and plans."

"Wow. Who else is working with Isabelle?"

"I'm not sure. I'm really not supposed to know as much as I do. Ron's going to stay in Hogsmeade for the summer to work with Phillip. He, Fred and George are getting a house in town. So, I might stay with them if I can find a job."

"You're not going to Dover with Isabelle?" Hermione was surprised.

"Well, I thought Sirius was going with her. But, now – who knows? Professor Lupin says that they haven't even looked in each other's direction in days. I don't want her to go to Dover alone, so if it comes to that, yeah, I'll spend the summer with her. But, I doubt Sirius would allow that, so I didn't really consider the option. Worthless git."

"Watch your mouth, Harry Potter." She raised her voice.

"You heard what he called my aunt."

"I did, but--"

"But, what? Admit it, you've never been happy to have Aunt Isabelle around in the first place."

"How can you say that? She's my…" her voice trailed off. She sighed. "You're wrong about how I feel about her, ok? All I'm saying is that there are always two sides to a story. You should know that from listening to me and Ron."

"True. What do you think their fight was about?"

"Definitely lover's quarrel," she said with conviction. "Isabelle told me once that whenever she fought with Phillip or her useless husband, she always stuffed her face with Reese's peanut butter cups. They're an American Muggle candy. Didn't you see the huge bag of them on her desk?"

"That's what those were? They looked good."

"Oh, they are. She gave me a huge tin of them when Ron and I had our big fight after Christmas."

"Let me get this straight. You're telling me that your git of a father dumped my aunt?"

"Basically. I'm not really sure who did the dumping, but that's what Professor Lupin told me, more or less. Oh, yeah, and he's not getting in the middle of it."

"I know how he feels," Harry mumbled underneath his breath. "Well, we can't do anything about it, so why worry about it? They're adults. Besides, they might work things out on their own."

"Doubtful. Anyway, are you ready to go back to the dorm? I want to look over my Potions notes again before class tomorrow. I don't want to do anything to irritate Snape before Saturday."

"Good idea."

-----

Harry followed Hermione into the Gryffindor common room, but was nowhere near the frame of mind necessary to study. He stomped over to an armchair in the farthest part of the room, and sat down, brooding. Ginny watched him over the top of her fashion magazine. She waited a minute, took a deep breath, and dragged a chair across the room to where he was. 

"Good evening, cheerful," she said, putting her magazine in her lap.

"What are you reading?" he asked, ignoring her comment. She held it up.

"Just checking out the fashion reviews of Fleur de Paris' new summer line." She shrugged. "It's a secret vice of mine. I know, it's hopelessly girly."

"I didn't say a word," he protested, trying not to smile.

She smacked him over the head with the magazine. "I know exactly what you're thinking, which is why I hide this stuff from all you guys."

"So, what's up in the world of high fashion?" Harry managed not to laugh.

"Not much. I'm really not impressed. I finally get a job to where I can afford some of this stuff, and there's nothing I like," she lamented.

"Virginia, you could wear a burlap sack and look great," he said with a charming smile. She blushed at the compliment.

"Thanks. But, I still want to look nice. You're a guy. You wouldn't understand."

"I understand more than you think. Picture this: me having to go to primary school wearing Dudley's old clothes. With frayed elbows and knees because he's too clumsy to walk fifty meters without falling down."

Ginny winced, having heard the stories about Dudley's enormous size from Fred and George. "That sounds horrible."

"No, this is horrible. Before I found out that I was a wizard and everything else, I was going to the local secondary school. Instead of buying clothes, Petunia decided to dye some of Dudley's old clothes to make uniforms for me. Isn't that sweet?"

She looked at him with a mixed look of horror and rage. He smiled wryly.

"Well, at least she didn't try to send me to an asylum for retarded children, like she did with Aunt Isabelle. Anyway, my point is that I understand what you're going through. If you like this stuff, fine. But, don't try to impress other people with clothes and stuff to make yourself feel better if you're insecure about yourself. That's what Aunt Petunia does, and it's so fake."

"Why do you have to be so sweet?" she asked, a little misty-eyed.

"It's a curse. I try to deal with it the best way that I can."

She swatted him with the magazine again. "You know what would be fun?"

"What?"

"To go to Fashion Week and see all of the shows. I'd love to go see everything, and then write about it for a newspaper or magazine. Sounds kind of petty, doesn't it? I mean, look at Ron over there. Mr. Lawyer. And then, there's perfect Hermione. Enough said. Even Fred and George--"

"I get the point, ok? So, you want to write about the finer things of life. Big deal. Not everyone has to devote their life to curing strange diseases I can't pronounce." He shrugged. "Maybe I like it that you're a little crazy. Makes life interesting."

"Is that a compliment?"

"Definitely." He leaned over and kissed her.

"So, why did you stomp over here in the first place?"

"Right now, that's about the last thing on my mind," he said, kissing her again. Ginny giggled nervously.

"Uh, you do realize that three of my brothers are in this room."

"I'm the Boy Who Lived. If I can survive facing Voldemort, I think I can handle your brothers."

Ginny just laughed. He might change his mind if he could see the look on Ron's face, she thought.

-----

"I can't believe you won't be around for the Quiddich match tomorrow," Harry lamented, glaring at Ron, who was quickly packing a bag. 

"Yeah, well, I'm going to court for your aunt," he pointed out.

"Which I appreciate, but I still don't see why you need to go."

"To learn how the appellate system works. And, to keep Phillip from ripping Remizov into shreds in case he shows his face at the courthouse."

"Are you serious about this lawyer stuff?" he joked.

"Yep," Ron said, pitching socks into the bag. "Harry, I'm the youngest of my brothers. Growing up, no one really listened or valued what I had to say because I was always too little. For the first time, what I think matters. When I finally get to argue in a courtroom, people will listen. I'm good at this stuff. Not to mention that it impresses girls."

Which was true, Harry had to admit as Ron walked out of the room, bag in hand. He jumped up, racing down the stairs to catch up with his friend.

"Hey, wait up," he called across the common room. "I'll walk you to Phillip's. I think Aunt Isabelle is spending the weekend over there watching the kids for him."

"Is she still sick?" Ron asked.

"Yeah, her cold just doesn't seem to be getting any better. Now she's having flu-like symptoms. At least that's what Professor Lupin says. He thinks she's making herself sick because she's stressed about the trial. I just want to see how she's doing."

They quickly walked through the castle, taking a shortcut to Hogsmeade. Harry really didn't feel like bothering to get a pass to go to town, so they wound through the tunnels, emerging in Honeyduke's. They quietly exited the store, and hurried to Phillip's flat. Bill opened the door.

"Hey," they said to him, walking into the living room. Phillip was deep in conversation with an incredibly exhausted-looking Isabelle. Her seemingly endless energy looked completely drained.

"I'm telling you, I have him nailed on every legal point imaginable," he told her. "Remizov doesn't have a leg to stand on, and if it was up to me, I'd remove his legs. But, that's another point entirely."

She smiled wanly, leaning back on the sofa. "You and me both. Break a leg, no pun intended. What would I do without you, Phillip?"

"Pay a whole lot of legal fees for starters," he said lightly, standing up and putting papers into his briefcase. "The kids are going to be home from school in about a half hour. Dinner's in the fridge; I ordered some food from that deli down the street. If Stephen asks, and I know he will, it's ok if he follows Harry around like a shadow. That is, if it's alright with you, Harry."

"Fine with me," he said quickly, looking at his aunt. The last thing she needed was to have to entertain a high-strung boy. She gave him a grateful look.

"Here's the number of the hotel we're staying at. If you need to reach me, call me. Or use Saskia. And Isabelle, get some rest please," Phillip said, walking to the door.

"Thanks for everything," she said sincerely as he and Ron left for the train station.

"I'm going to the kitchen to get a drink. Do you want anything?" Bill asked.

"Ginger ale, please," she replied.

"How about you?"

"Water's fine. Phillip always has weird drinks in his refrigerator." Harry wrinkled his nose.

"Like what?" Isabelle wanted to know.

"That iced tea junk, for starters. Not to mention that Gatorade mess. That's disgusting."

"I'll agree with you on the Gatorade. What are you doing here, anyway? Don't you have, er, other plans?" she said, narrowing her eyes.

"Already taken care of this morning." He grinned.

Isabelle opened her mouth to reply, but shut it quickly when Bill walked back into the room.

"You didn't answer my question," she reminded Harry.

"I just wanted to see how you were feeling," he answered truthfully. "I was going to offer to keep you company, but I think that it would be better to go play Quiddich with Stephen or something. Especially since you have Bill here."

"Are you sure you have time? The O.W.L. tests are coming up soon."

"Oh, come on. I study with Hermione. I'm already as prepared as most of the other students will be test day."

"True enough." Isabelle laughed.

She heard the back door open and close with a loud bang. Stephen bounded into the room, lighting up immediately when he saw Harry. He absolutely worshipped the ground the older boy walked on. After a minute, a sobbing Abbie hovered in the doorway.

"Abbie? What's wrong, sweetie?" she asked the preschooler, who bounded into her arms, crying loudly.

"I hate school," the little girl pronounced in a hurt voice. Isabelle gently brushed the hair out of her face.

"Why do you hate school?"

"I just do," she pouted.

Isabelle sighed. Trying to reason with a four-year-old was difficult anytime, but especially when she didn't feel well. It was time to cut to the chase, she decided.

"Why don't you want to learn how to read?" Isabelle inquired.

"Because it's too hard."

"Oh, everybody says that when they're first learning, Abbie."

"I'll never learn," she cried, in a surprisingly Scottish accent. "Everyone else in the class knows their letters but me. I'm just stupid."

"You're not stupid. Want to know a secret?" Isabelle asked in a mock whisper. "I didn't learn how to read until I was nine years old."

"Why not?" Abbie whispered back.

"Because my teachers didn't think I was ready yet. So, you're doing really well if your teachers think you can start learning to read already."

The little girl smiled proudly. "I do know all of my numbers."

"Wow," Isabelle said. "See, you are smart. And, you need to work real hard in school. Do you know why?"

She shook her head no.

"Because we're girls, and it's harder for us to make it in the world. Trust me, an education is a woman's greatest and hardest won asset."

Abbie looked at Isabelle and nodded seriously as a chill went down Harry's spine. Where have I heard that before? he thought, racking his brain.

"Is that a quote from someone?" he asked his aunt.

"Veronica Franco. Why?"

"No reason," he lied. Isabelle was clearly unconvinced, staring at him through narrowed eyes. Harry changed the subject. "Stephen, would you like to go play some Quiddich?"

"Sure." The little boy jumped up, ready to go.

"Ok, we'll be back in a couple of hours." Harry led Stephen outside and to the Quiddich pitch. He needed to clear his mind.

-----

Phillip stared out the window, mentally reviewing his appellate argument. Although he brought notes to the podium with him, he always made a habit of memorizing a rough outline of talking points. He learned that lesson halfway through law school, when he completely blanked out during a moot court competition. 

Unlike most of his arguments, Isabelle's case was fairly straightforward legally. The difficulty came with the knowledge that the appellant, Sergei Remizov, murdered his family in cold blood. And, he had no means of proving that, which infuriated Phillip.

He took a calming breath to focus as his eyes clouded over briefly. A sense of futility washed over him. Although Phillip Spence had an excellent international reputation as an attorney, his legal skills were no match for Remizov's cunning and heart of pure evil. He knew the second the case moved from Virginia to London, Isabelle had as good as lost already.

But, there was no way he had the heart to tell her that. Besides, he saw in her eyes that she knew, and that they were both saying lines from a script designed to reassure everyone else. He smiled briefly, recalling their conversation earlier that afternoon. Isabelle was a prize actress, he admitted. She said all the right words, at the right times, never giving anyone a clue that she was petrified. If he didn't know better, he'd believe that she was a fearless optimist.

Well, he thought, if nothing else, the experience will be good for Ron. Which is why he invited him in the first place. The young man was all too willing to leave Hogwarts for a weekend, and Phillip had a sneaking suspicion that Hermione had everything to do with that.

"Hey, Phillip?" Ron asked, peering over a large stack of notes with a puzzled look on his face. "What's the Abuela argument?"

He laughed. "That's what Isabelle called it when she first reminded me of the theory, and it stuck. She got it from Abuela a couple of years ago, before she died."

"Abuela, as in Hermione's great-grandmother?"

"The very same. Brilliant woman, from what Isabelle says."

Ron looked completely confused. "Why would Isabelle be around her in the first place?"

"Long story. The short version is that Abuela saw through the secret-keeping spell, and they kept in touch." Which had everything to do with our breakup, Phillip remembered with a sad smile.

"Did you ever meet her?"

"Once, when she traveled to Washington, D.C. on business. Great sense of humor," Phillip said, rummaging though his bag for a Moon Pie. After a minute, he found one. Ron wrinkled his nose as he unwrapped the snack and began devour it quickly.

"That is just disgusting," he pronounced. "What do you mean, on business?"

"You're awfully curious about Hermione's family, aren't you?" Phillip mumbled through a mouthful of Moon Pie.

Ron's ears turned pink. "Just making conversation."

"Sure, you are," he teased. "Abuela was a medical doctor."

"What kind of doctor?" he pressed.

"For pity's sake, why don't you ask Sirius if you really want to know?"

"Uh," Ron stuttered, completely at a loss for words. Phillip felt sorry for the teenager, and decided to put him out of his misery.

"A pediatrician specializing in childhood diseases. She went to medical school to learn how to care for her daughter, Sirius' mother, who got polio when she was seven."

"Oh. I didn't know that. You see, no one talks about that stuff, and I was just curious. Well, not curious per se--"

"Enough!" Phillip threw up his hands. "I get it."

"I wonder if that's where Hermione gets it from," Ron wondered.

"What?"

"Her weird fascination with curing diseases no one can pronounce."

"Yeah, I hear you find her weirdly fascinating in general," Phillip said with a wicked smile. Ron turned bright red, completely at a loss for words.

"Just fascinating. She really isn't very weird, to tell the truth," he stammered, pausing to think about what he had just said. "That didn't sound right, did it?"

Phillip decided to twist the knife. He couldn't help himself. "No, it didn't. And in that case, I feel sorry for you then."

Ron wanted to crawl under the train seat and die. He'd settle for the earth opening up and swallowing him whole. Or spontaneous combustion. Anything he said now was fair game for Phillip's sardonic remarks, and he knew it. And, he'd learned over the past few months that Phillip Spence was the master of sarcasm. Which is probably why he's a lawyer, Ron decided.

At least I didn't say something that stupid in front of Sirius, he thought, looking on the bright side. Or Harry, for that matter.

"What I meant was," he tried to explain, "is that Hermione has a pretty normal personality, although people tend to think she's a little odd."

"If that's what you want to call it," Phillip said in a lofty tone. Ron had had enough.

"And what kind of personality does Isabelle have, then?"

He raised his eyebrow suggestively, and grinned evilly. "Do you really want to know?"

"Er, no thank you. I can imagine."

"No, you really can't," he said with a nostalgic look on his face. "She's so fun and full of life. A true free spirit."

"How do you do it?" Ron wondered.

"Do what?"

"How can you be around Isabelle, especially after she dumped you?"

"I couldn't, at first," he admitted. "Eventually I just got over it."

"Just got over it," he repeated. "Yeah, me too."

"I said eventually. It took a couple of years."

"Thanks," Ron said gloomily.

"Why aren't y'all together, anyway?"

"I have no earthly idea. Everything was great over Christmas, and then all of a sudden, she starts getting all wishy-washy on me."

Phillip smiled, realizing immediately what the problem was. "So, y'all hooked up over the holidays, then?"

"Pretty much, yeah." Ron's ears were blood red.

"That would be the problem."

"What do you mean?"

"Let me give you an example. I met Isabelle one night when she was sitting on the roof of our apartment building. Don't ask why either of us was up there; it's a long story. Anyway, we got to talking, and became friends. Well, she snuck over to this huge party that I was throwing that weekend. One thing led to another, and, you get the idea."

"Is that when you started dating?"

"Not hardly. She wouldn't speak to me for six months."

"Say what?" Ron exclaimed.

"Yep. Finally, I got up the nerve to talk to her. She starts going on about how she's not the type of girl who randomly hooks up at parties. Basically, she thought all I wanted was a physical relationship. Naturally, that was part of it. I mean, you've seen her. Point being, she had a false perception of my intentions."

"I think I'm hearing you."

"I don't know the details about your relationship with Hermione, and frankly, it's not my business. But, it seems to me that she's pulling a classic Isabelle and would rather ignore you than admit that she's scared."

"Then how do you explain Krum?"

"Another classic Isabelle tactic. Date someone nice and safe while working up the nerve to deal with the person you really want to be with."

Ron slouched down on the train seat, obviously depressed. Phillip smiled sympathetically, remembering his relationship with Isabelle. Although he loved her deeply when they were together, there are some things he just doesn't miss about being involved with her romantically. And her unintentional, but still frustrating, mind games are at the top of the list.

"Are you sure she's worth all the trouble?" Phillip asked, half-jokingly. Anyone could plainly see the poor boy worshipped the ground Hermione walked on. Anyone but her, that is.

"Yeah. I love her," he admitted, shrugging sheepishly. "Always have, to tell the truth. I'd give anything if she felt the same way."

Phillip fought the urge to roll his eyes and strangle Ron. After all, he is the best law clerk I've ever had, he reminded himself. How could someone be so astute with the law, but so clueless about his own life? He clearly needed the situation to be spelled out to him, because Ron sure wasn't taking the hint.

"Ok," he said as calmly as possible, looking Ron dead in the eye. "You love her. She loves you. Otherwise, she wouldn't bother with all of the Isabellean mind games. You need to beat her at her own game, or she'll never admit her feelings because she has too much pride."

"So, how do I do that?" he asked helplessly.

"First, you apologize for whatever broke y'all up," Phillip began.

"For what?" Ron roared. "She's the one messing everything up."

"That may be true, but trust me, the woman's never to blame. Learn that now, and it'll save you a lot of trouble in the future. Even if something is totally her fault, in her mind, it's at least half your fault."

"That doesn't make any sense."

"Women don't make any logical sense. If you randomly walk up to her and apologize, that puts her off guard. So, then you smile real pretty and say that you've missed spending time with her. And, that you'd like another chance to see how things work, but you'll take things at her pace. Which, if Hermione's anything like Isabelle, is like a snail crawling through molasses in the winter."

"Nice image." Ron made a face.

"Oh, yeah. When she gives you the _look_, you know, the one that says, 'you big fat liar,' tell her that you value your friendship with her more than any of that other stuff."

"Then what?"

"Back it up, you git," Phillip replied, exasperated. "Trust me, it'll work."

"I do miss hanging out with her. I even miss her hounding me about my homework and the O.W.L. tests. I've been studying with a group of Ravenclaw girls, but they're not half as smart as she is," Ron said with pride.

"A group of Ravenclaw girls?"

"Yeah." He shrugged. "They take Muggle Studies, and were in the lab a lot when I used to work there. So, I got to know them. They're ok."

"Has Hermione seen you study with this group of Ravenclaw girls?" Phillip asked pointedly. Ron looked at him for a minute, puzzled.

"Oh, no," he groaned. "I'm an idiot."

"Pretty much."

"She thinks that I'm…" his voice trailed off.

"Yup."

"So, this is basically a big misunderstanding. One that I can fix with lots of begging and apologizing," Ron tried to convince himself. "Picking up a present couldn't hurt, either. I need all the help I can get at this point." Phillip successfully hid a smile. He was quite thankful that in all the talk about Hermione, Ron completely forgot about the whole Abuela argument conversation. Even after all these years, it was a still sore spot with him.


	29. Chapter 26

**Chapter 26**

Isabelle wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, and began to turn the handle of the bathroom door. Midway through opening the door, a sob caught in her throat. She quickly shut the door and slid to the floor, resting her head on her knees. After a minute, she rolled over and laid on the bathroom rug, curled up in fetal position.

Never in her entire life had she felt so helpless and vulnerable. To the outside world, she had the perfect smile, the clever wit that endeared her to everyone she met. But, in the few private moments she allowed herself, she quickly dissolved into mind-wrenching self-doubt and a seemingly endless stream of tears.

Get yourself together, she told herself forcefully, making a mental note not to be alone for the next few days. Because then, she had to fight the urge to run to Sirius, and beg for him to forgive her for whatever nameless sin she didn't commit. Sometimes, she felt like admitting to anything, everything, whatever it took for him to want her again.

Especially today. A wave of nausea overtook her, making her sit up quickly and crawl to the toilet. After getting sick for the third time that morning alone, she leaned her forehead against the cool porcelain of the bathtub. She didn't know if it was the stress of teaching, breaking up with Sirius, or battling her divorce with Sergei that was causing her to be so sick. A loud knock sounded at the door.

"Be out in a minute," she called out in a carefree, cheery voice.

"Ok," Harry hollered back. "Is it ok if all of us head out to the Quiddich match?"

"Only if Bill is with y'all. The kids are a handful."

"He is. See you later."

Isabelle smiled, listening to footsteps thundering down the stairs. She chastised herself for being so down earlier. After all, she had her family back, which was a miracle in itself. And great friends who were always there for her. Life really is good, she decided.

Feeling much better, she stood up slowly. Suddenly, the room started to spin slowly, making her stomach incredibly queasy. She shut her eyes tightly and grasped the wall for support. As she opened her eyes, the room filled with tiny black dots. In a panic, she reached out for something to steady her, grabbing the window curtain. The curtain rod split in two as Isabelle blacked out, hitting the floor with a soft thud, the billowing window sheer covering her like a blanket.

-----

Harry glanced over at Hermione as the stands began to fill with spectators. Their eyes met, and they had to fight to keep from laughing. If everything went according to plan, today would go down as the most insane Quiddich game in Hogwarts history. 

And, hopefully that chapter in _Hogwarts: A History_ won't include us getting expelled, Hermione thought, crossing her fingers.

"How long before the match starts?" she whispered.

"About twenty minutes," Harry whispered back. "Is Aunt Isabelle here yet? I don't want her to miss this."

They peered over the side of the tall stands, scouring the milling crowd furtively. After a minute, they both sat back down, puzzled.

"Stephen, do you see Isabelle anywhere?" Hermione asked the little boy. He looked down, shaking his head.

"Nope," he replied. "But, I see Bill talking to Virginia."

"Where?" Harry bolted out of his seat, looking for her.

"Calm down, lover boy," Hermione teased, pulling him back down. "I'm sure they're coming up here."

He shot her a _look_, but bit his tongue because he didn't want to offend young ears. Sure enough, Bill and Ginny joined them in the stands a minute later.

Hermione sighed as she watched Harry and Ginny greet each other out of the corner of her eye. She couldn't help but think about Ron, and wonder how the trial was going. If the docket was running on time, Phillip should be giving his oral argument right about now.

I wish Ron were here, she thought wistfully. Even though we haven't spoken in a week and a half.

"Hey, Remus," she heard Bill say, which snapped her out of her daydream.

"Have you seen Isabelle? She was supposed to meet me ten minutes ago, but didn't show," he asked with a worried look. Isabelle was always punctual; you could set a clock by her.

"She's back at the flat getting ready," Harry replied, not taking his eyes off the field, where the players were beginning to walk onto the pitch.

"Thanks," Remus said, thinking. "Maybe I'll check there."

Concerned, he quickly walked down the winding staircase of the stands. He stormed through the faculty grounds and into town, his worry growing by the second. Instinct told him something was terribly wrong. After knocking at the door several times, he broke into the house, calling out her name with no answer.

He made a wide, general search of the first floor, seeing nothing out of the ordinary. Most importantly, he saw no signs of Isabelle. He climbed upstairs, moving from room to room, nearly in a panic. Right before walking downstairs again, he saw a small sliver of light peeking from underneath the closed bathroom door.

Throwing caution to the wind, he broke down the door. Isabelle lay on the floor, unconscious, in a crumpled heap. He knelt beside her, turning her face towards him. Brushing her hair out of her face, he tried to revive her. It took a minute, but she finally opened her eyes slowly, trying to focus them on his fuzzy form.

"Remus?" she said, through an incredibly dry mouth. "Wha-what's going on?"

"You took a nasty fall, I think. Do you remember anything that happened?" he replied, helping her to sit up. She rested her head on her knees.

"Sort of. The last thing I remember is standing up, and everything when black," she slurred.

Remus checked her eyes for a concussion. "Why were you on the floor in the first place?"

"I was sick."

"Nerves?" he asked sympathetically. She nodded.

"It hit me a few days ago. I hope that it's nerves and not the flu. I'm just starting to get over this cold."

As if to prove her point, Isabelle erupted into a loud, lengthy sneezing fit. Remus passed her the box of tissues.

"Thanks," she said. "Oh, I feel rotten. What time is it, anyway?"

"Just about noon."

"Noon! I need to hurry up. The Quiddich match is supposed to start any minute," she said in a rush.

Isabelle jumped to her feet. She took a couple of steps, then lurched dizzily. Luckily, Remus caught her before she fell again.

"Sorry," she slurred, unable to walk any further. He easily picked her up and carried her to the guest bedroom where she was staying, amazed at how light she was.

"Isabelle, when was the last time you ate anything?" he inquired, gently putting her down on the bed. She smiled thankfully.

"Ate anything? This morning at breakfast. When was the last time I kept anything down? Oh, Wednesday, I guess."

"What?" he asked, angry at her for being sick so long and not saying or doing anything about it. And, angry with himself for not noticing how bad off she really was.

"I'm not that bad, really. Ouch, my back just cramped up," she winced. "Dancer's injury acting up, I guess."

Remus raised an eyebrow suspiciously. Something wasn't adding up, and he had a theory about Isabelle's mystery illness. "Why don't I get you a glass of tea? I'll be right back, ok?"

She nodded, and leaned back into the soft, cool pillows until he returned with a steaming mug of tea. Grateful, she sipped the strong brew.

"This is fantastic," she enthused. "Is it Irish Breakfast tea?"

"Yup, I know it's your favorite. I added a lot of lemon and honey to help your throat. You sound a little scratchy," he said carefully, watching her down the cup quickly.

"Wow, you are so attentive. No wonder you're such a ladies' man," she winked.

"What can I say? It's a gift," he joked.

Remus smiled internally, watching Isabelle visibly perk up by the minute. He couldn't figure out why she didn't know what was wrong with her. Aren't women supposed to have some sixth sense about these things? he wondered.

"Why are you looking at me so funny?" she asked, smiling as if nothing bothered her.

"Feeling better?"

"One hundred percent," Isabelle answered, narrowing her eyes. "Why?"

"Because I slipped a prescription-strength potion in your tea," he said matter-of-factly. Breaking the news gently was the best way, he decided, bracing himself for the storm.

"Oh? What was it for, so that I can keep taking it?" she laughed.

"Morning sickness."

Isabelle snorted. "Remus, stop joking around. Come on, tell me what this is for."

"I told you. Morning sickness."

"I don't understand." She looked genuinely puzzled.

Remus smiled and shook his head slightly. Isabelle may be a genius, but she's awfully thick sometimes, he thought. He put his hand on top of hers, and took a deep breath.

"You're pregnant, Isabelle," he said kindly. A spurt of hysterical laughter burst from her lips.

"That's not possible," she said, wiping away a tear from the corner of her eye.

"Can you sit there and honestly tell me there's no chance that I'm right?"

Her face turned a deep pink as she shook her head yes. "It's not medically possible. The doctors said that, and tried to explain in their doctor talk all of the details. All I heard was that I lost my only child, and have no hope of having any more. So, please don't kid around with me, Remus. You know how much I wanted children. It's cruel, especially now, since--"

"Since what?" he asked softly.

"Since we both know whom the baby would belong to," she whispered in a barely audible voice. She covered her head with her hands, desperately trying not to burst into tears. "Besides, that couldn't be it. I knew I was pregnant with Kate from day one. And, I never had any morning sickness or trouble at all with her."

"Each child is different," he reminded her. "Will you humor me and let me call a doctor?"

She nodded. If nothing else, it would shut him up. "Then can we go to the Quiddich match already?"

"Deal."

He headed downstairs, penned a quick note, and gave it to Saskia to take to St. Mungo's. Ten minutes later, he heard a sharp rap at the door. He let the doctor in, briefly explained the situation, and led her upstairs to where Isabelle was impatiently waiting.

She thought Remus was clearly overreacting, but greeted Dr. Richardson warmly anyway. Satisfied that Isabelle would be cooperative, he quietly closed the door and paced the hallway, waiting for the doctor to finish her examination. It seemed like forever until the doctor poked her head outside the door.

"You can come in," she said cheerfully.

He nervously walked back into the guest room, where Isabelle sat on the bed with mixed look of amazement and sadness on her face. She gave Remus an embarrassed smile.

"Well, turns out those heightened werewolf senses of yours were right," she said quietly and somewhat shyly. "How would you feel about having another godchild?"

Remus just smiled and nodded. Although he never really wanted a family of his own, he always enjoyed playing with his friends' children. And, Isabelle was the apple of his eye. Her child, no matter who the father was, would automatically be a favorite of his. Dr. Richardson looked at them, confused, but she quickly averted her eyes to her clipboard.

"Well, Ms. Evans, I'm looking at your medical history. And, from what I see, this pregnancy is nothing short of a miracle. I'm not going to lie to you; this is and will be an extremely high-risk pregnancy. But, I truly believe that you can carry this child to term. That is, if you want to keep the baby." She added the last part at the truly horrified look on Isabelle's face.

Her eyes widened. "Of course I want this baby. It's just a surprise, that's all."

"I can imagine." Dr. Richardson smiled sympathetically. "I need to ask you some personal questions so that my team at the hospital can best care for both of you. Is that alright with you?"

Isabelle nodded slowly. Her years with Phillip taught her many things, one of which was the physician-patient privilege. If she or any other doctor leaked information, Isabelle could and would sue the hospital for everything they were worth. The last thing she wanted was to embarrass the family.

Although she was nothing short of shocked, she wanted the baby worse than anything else in her life. So, she swallowed back her pride and answered the doctor's enormous list of questions about herself. Dr. Richardson smiled encouragingly, jotting down notes as she went.

"I think that's all I need to know about you," she finished up, flipping a page on her clipboard. "Now, onto the father's background."

"T-the father?" Isabelle stuttered.

"Well, it's perfectly alright if you're not certain of your baby's paternity. It just makes prenatal care a lot easier if we know of any genetic diseases or birth defects that the father's family might have," the doctor explained in a comforting voice.

No wonder she's the head of the department, Isabelle thought, liking the doctor more and more. Guess that's the benefit of being filthy stinking rich; you get the best. She smiled, wondering how the doctor and hospital staff would treat her after they discovered whose baby she was carrying.

"I understand, and there's no paternity issue," she said thankfully. "My baby's father is Sirius Black."

Dr. Richardson dropped her quill on the floor, her jaw opening in surprise. She shut it tightly and picked up the quill quickly, composing herself. Isabelle shot Remus an amused look. He covered his mouth with his hand, trying not to laugh.

"I see," the doctor managed to say, gathering her thoughts.

Well, she thought, this changes everything. It was one thing to care for a famous dancer's child, but the rules became very different when the famous dancer's child belonged to the most notorious wizard in modern history. She was suddenly quite grateful that she handled the house call herself.

It was Isabelle's turn to put the doctor at ease. She grew up as part of a famous family, so it was all she knew. Consequently, she didn't understand why she or anyone else in her family would intimidate anyone. But, they did for some reason. She shrugged slightly.

"I know a fair amount about Sirius' family, but the best way to get that information is from the archives. The Black family's medical history is documented from the reign of Emperor Constantine to the present, and Abuela put together the other side of the family's medical history a few years ago. It goes back to Julius Caesar."

"As in two thousand years ago?" Dr. Richardson asked, dazed.

"Crazy, isn't it?" Isabelle laughed. "Oh, I'm sorry. Abuela is Doctor Mariana Delgado de Piedra. That's Sirius' maternal grandmother. You'll find the records listed under her name."

"Doctor Piedra? The pediatrician?"

"Yup."

The doctor raised an eyebrow as she made a notation on the chart, but didn't respond. "Does Mr. Black know about your child?"

"No. I do appreciate your discretion in this matter, and I'm sure you understand my decision to keep my pregnancy quiet," Isabelle said pointedly.

"Of course."

Everyone knows about her court issues with her ex-husband, Dr. Richardson thought, wondering how the baby could complicate things. She gathered her medical bag together, and pulled out her appointment calendar.

"Well, that's all for now," she said brightly. "I need to see you in a week. How's next Saturday at two o'clock?"

"That's fine," Isabelle answered.

"Just send an owl sometime during the week so that I know where to come. It was nice meeting you Ms. Evans, and please contact me immediately if you have any questions or problems."

"I will. Thank you," she said right before Dr. Richardson disapperated.

She looked at Remus, and dissolved completely. He crossed the room, and hugged her tightly, letting her cry against his shoulder. After a few minutes, she gathered herself together enough to attempt to speak.

"Thank you," she sniffled.

"For what?" he asked lightly.

"For everything. For having the nerve to tell me what I didn't want to hear, and making me face the reality of my life. Most of all, for being such an amazing friend."

"Not a problem." Remus rested his chin on the top of her head and smoothed her rumpled hair. She could go from perfectly composed to a total mess in no time flat, he thought amusedly.

"Oh, what am I going to do?" she wailed.

"You're going to have a baby," he answered with a laugh.

"No, about everything else? For starters, there are two teenage children who expect me to be at the Quiddich match, which I'm not. And, then there's Stephen and Abbie, who need to be taken care of. Meanwhile, I'm here with a horrid case of morning sickness. Which is because I-I thought what Sirius and I had was special. I thought I meant something to him, but obviously I didn't," she concluded miserably.

"You mean everything to him," Remus said honestly. "He just doesn't know how to show it."

She shut her eyes tightly, trying to get herself together. "It's not about Sirius or I anymore. It's about what's best for our baby, and right now, I'm not quite sure what that is."

"Ok, what would be the best possible scenario?" Remus asked.

Isabelle sighed, and rubbed her temples with her fingertips. "The best thing would be for Sirius to realize that I'd never, ever run around on him. Why would I? He's the only man I've ever wanted. And after he reaches that epiphany, to apologize profusely for shattering my heart and self-image. But, that's living in a fantasy world."

"Why?"

"Because we both know Sirius is too stubborn to realize he's wrong, and too prideful to admit it."

Remus didn't know what to say, mostly because he knew Isabelle was completely right. She understood Sirius better than anyone else. "Why do you think he lashed out at you like that?"

"Many reasons, none of which justify his actions." She unconsciously put a hand over her stomach. "And, I refuse to expose my child to that."

"What's that?" He was puzzled.

"For starters, I'm not going to let our child watch Sirius drown his problems with alcohol. Nor am I going to expose my baby to his womanizing. If he wants to self-destruct and turn into his father, fine. I won't stop him, or say anything about it. But, I won't let him damage his child's psyche like he was messed up."

"What womanizing?" Remus wouldn't meet her eyes. She laughed wryly.

"Do you think I'm stupid? Please. I know he was out with some redhead last night, and that he didn't come home last night."

"Er, how?"

"I saw him with her through the bathroom window. The rest was woman's intuition. And, you just confirmed my suspicions."

Remus started laughing. Isabelle gave him an incredibly hurt look.

"I don't think it's funny," she said, teary-eyed.

"I do. You and Sirius are cut out of the same mold, I swear. Neither of you is willing to give the other the benefit of the doubt."

"What do you mean?"

"You're not running around, and neither is he. Nor is he turning into his father, for crying out loud. I think we need to have a talk," Remus said, putting his arm around Isabelle.

"Ok," she said, blowing her nose loudly. "About what?"

"About what's really going on between you and Sirius."

"Nothing. End of story."

"Not quite. Obviously something went on, or there wouldn't be a baby," Remus pointed out. Isabelle's face turned deep scarlet.

"That's a little personal," she whispered embarrassingly. "Besides I already told you that I did what I did because I thought we had something special. And, that I was incredibly wrong."

"Why were you wrong?" he asked. Her face was practically on fire.

"You know why."

Remus looked at her, puzzled. "No, I have absolutely no clue."

"Yes, you do. Even before Sirius and I had that fight," she shuddered at the memory, "I overheard him talking to you that morning. About how I meant nothing to him and that he's in love with someone else."

"He wasn't talking about you."

"He wasn't?" Isabelle smiled hopefully in spite of herself.

"No. Sirius went by Sara's jewelry shop, she asked him to dinner, and he went," Remus explained.

"So, he was talking about Sara?"

"Yes, and you. He's in love with you, trust me."

"Really?"

"Really."

"Wait a second, here." Something occurred to Isabelle. "Why was Sirius in a jewelry shop in the first place?"

"I have no idea," Remus lied. She raised an eyebrow, but didn't press the issue further. Partially because she didn't know if she really wanted to know the answer to her question.

"Do you have a clue why he would randomly accuse me of running around on him?" she changed the subject.

"Yeah, because he saw you here, dancing with Phillip, when you were supposed to be in London with Bill."

Surprised, all she could do was shake her head and laugh. "Well, that's true. But, I suppose he didn't see Bill, Harry and Ron in the background, huh?"

"Guess not. I think you and Sirius are the reigning monarchs of miscommunication."

"No doubt. Phillip and I were demonstrating country dancing for, oh, thirty seconds. Maybe I should've told Sirius that I was going to Hogsmeade instead of staying in London. I didn't think it was that big of a deal. Either way, I was going to be home at the same time. Apparently it was a big deal to him," she finished quietly. "Well, he is ancient."

"Watch it," Remus said in mock indignation. "You have to admit that there's a big geographical difference between London, England and Hogsmeade, Scotland. And, wouldn't you be a little nervous if Sirius was always hanging around his ex-girlfriends?"

"No, because that's pretty much the female population of the wizarding world between the ages of thirty-seven and forty-three," she interrupted, making a face.

"Be that as it may, can you see his point?"

"Yes and no. I understand the way Sirius' conspiracy theory mind works. But, he could've confronted me in a reasonable, adult manner instead of jumping to conclusions and blowing his top. I don't have any patience for his temper, mostly because I know he can be very calm and reasonable when he chooses to. If not, I wouldn't have lived past the age of fifteen."

"So true," Remus laughed. "You were a handful and a half. I don't know if I want to imagine what a combination of you and Sirius would be like."

"Well, I do know for sure that this baby will have a horrid temper, terrible stubborn streak, and be very loyal. And will be brilliant and incredibly good looking, of course."

"Of course. You are going to tell Sirius, right?"

Isabelle sighed. "With my luck, the baby will be a carbon copy of him, so there'd be no denying who it belongs to. Yes, I want to tell him, but he's such a loose cannon that I don't know what his reaction would be."

"He loves you. And, we both know he loves kids. So, I'm sure he'd be fine," he reassured her.

"That may be, but he still doesn't trust me. Lord only knows why he doesn't; especially after all I've done for him. Part of me wants to believe that everything will work out. Having a family with Sirius has been my dream for longer than I can remember. But, I can't marry a man who second-guesses everything I say or do. That's not setting a good example of a healthy relationship for our baby, and what's best for the baby comes before my dreams. Besides, who says that he'd marry me, anyway? He's never mentioned it before. So, I guess this whole line of thought is silly," she said somewhat sadly.

Remus bit his tongue. Isabelle is as thick as Sirius about what's right in front of her sometimes, he thought. They truly are a perfect match. Luckily, that got him off the hook for the jewelry store question.

"And what are the children going to think?" she continued. "This isn't exactly setting a good example for them, either."

"That's not true. You're dealing with the consequences of your actions. What's wrong with that?"

"Um, I'm having a baby and I'm not married."

"Isabelle, you're hopelessly old-fashioned." Remus rolled his eyes.

"So I have traditional values. What's wrong with that?"

"Nothing," he chuckled. "It's just funny, hearing that come from you, of all people. What's even funnier is that Sirius shares your opinions. Do either of you practice what you preach?"

"No, which is why I preach at the kids. I don't want them to make my mistakes," she said earnestly.

"Quick interruption – why do you think Sirius and I lectured you so much way back when? Not that it made a difference, but we wanted you to learn from our mistakes. Don't worry about what the kids will think. They're old enough to understand what's going on."

"Maybe they'll get the point and not follow my path," Isabelle hoped.

"Meanwhile, I really think you should tell Sirius about the baby. And sooner rather than later."

"Ok, but there's someone I need to tell first. Severus is not going to be very happy about this, to say the least, and I'd rather the news come from me."

Remus smiled, thinking about Snape's reaction to Isabelle telling him that she was pregnant with Sirius Black's child. He desperately wished that he could be a fly on the wall for that conversation. What a priceless moment, he thought, a wicked grin spreading across his face.

"What's that smile for?" Isabelle asked, knowing full well what he was thinking.

"For some reason, 'Papa Don't Preach' is suddenly stuck in my head. Wonder why?" he mused. She knocked him over the head with a pillow.

"You're horrible."

"Thank you," he smirked. "Papa don't preach, I'm in trouble deep. Papa don't--"

"I get the point," she laughed. Her face fell.

"What's the matter?"

"Sirius is right. I do have a Madonna song for every occasion." She burst into tears. "What do I do if he doesn't want me or the baby, Remus?"

"I'll beat him down."

"I'm serious," she pouted.

"So am I!" he protested. "Isabelle, everything will work out, I promise. Even if it involves me beating some sense into Sirius' thick skull."

"You're amazing, Remus," she said, wiping away tears from the corners of her eyes. He smiled sheepishly.

"Nah," he objected.

"Yes, you are. Well, how am I going to explain not being at the Quiddich match to the kids?"

"Don't worry about it. I'll go back to the pitch and say that you're not feeling well, so you're resting for a little while. Sound good to you?" he asked.

"No, I'll tell them myself," Isabelle replied, standing up and walking to her overnight bag. "Just give me a couple of minutes, and I'll be ready to go."

"Meet you downstairs then," he said, leaving the room.

She met him at the door five minutes later, looking the picture of health. Remus couldn't believe the change in her since earlier that morning. Gone were the enormous dark circles under her eyes and the sickly pallor in her skin. He decided to tease her a bit, letting out a low wolf whistle.

"Wow, you're one hot mama," he joked, watching her face turn bright red.

"Thanks," she muttered, swatting at him as she walked outside.


	30. Chapter 27

**Author's Note: **The lullaby in this scene's by Creed, but I'm too lazy to look up the exact name. It's off the Human Clay album, though; and therefore, not mine. Hey, I am updating, though!

Am pretty darn excited in a very nerdy way to be pregnant with JKR. And you know what? She can delay HBP as long as she likes, in my opinion. Growing a baby's darn hard work! (Yeah, I know that was a dangerous statement, but don't mess with a pregnant woman.)

* * *

**Chapter 27**

They walked in comfortable silence through the town, quickening their steps as they drew closer to the Quiddich pitch, which was utter pandemonium. Isabelle grinned, which turned into hysterical laughter upon walking into the stadium. "They did it," she whispered in awe.

The stands were a sea of scarlet and gold. The Slytherin and Ravenclaw students were feverishly trying to reverse the charms while keeping an eye on the match. Meanwhile, the Gryffindor students were pointing and laughing hysterically at all of them.

Isabelle watched in amusement as Hilary Jones, a Ravenclaw chaser, made a beautiful shot on goal. Of course, it bounced off the goalpost and rocketed back towards her, causing an incredibly confused and exasperated Madame Hooch to scratch her head, puzzled.

Above the fray, seekers Draco Malfoy and Cho Chang watched the scene, trying to get a glimpse of the Snitch. Isabelle checked the time, figuring that the Snitch would slow down any minute now to its normal breathtaking speed.

The members from both teams alternated between furious anger because of their "improved" uniforms, and amusement at what the uniforms for the other team said. Every uniform was Gryffindor scarlet. They were charmed to display sayings like "Only boring prats are Ravenclaws" in large gold writing on both the front and back of the uniforms. Periodically, the writings changed, getting a loud response from the crowd. The combination of the deafening crowd and gaping at their uniforms distracted the players greatly, causing a sloppy, hilarious display.

The piece de resistance, in Isabelle's opinion, was the inscription "Go Gryffindor!" sprawled in humongous scarlet letters on the pitch, which was a last-minute addition to the list of charms that she gave the children. She couldn't remember how many times she, Brittany and Sarah Lindsay snuck into the opposing school's football stadium and charmed writing all over the field during high school.

The prank just wasn't complete without a Musketeers' touch, she decided, smiling nostalgically. Suddenly, her face fell and her stomach lurched. She crossed her fingers and hoped desperately that Severus didn't remember that, or she and the children would be in a lot of trouble. Gulping, she scanned the pitch, trying to find her former guardian.

An irate Professor Snape, along with an equally angry Professor Flitwick, stood on the pitch below the players, trying to reverse the charms. Isabelle giggled, knowing all of their efforts were of no use. She caught Severus' eye, and he gave her a murderous look that paralyzed her for a moment or two. Grown woman or not, he still had a commanding, intimidating presence.

Isabelle winced, realizing that he would not be anywhere near the right frame of mind to discuss the baby calmly and rationally anytime in the near future. Unconsciously, she looked for Sirius, who was involved in a heated argument with Hermione about twenty meters away. Her eyes widened, assuming that he found out somehow about Hermione's involvement in the prank and was giving her one of his classic, hypocritical lectures.

Despite being infuriated with him, her icy attitude melted a bit around the edges at the mere sight of him. The past few days had given her much-needed perspective about her relationship with Sirius over the years. All her long walks and sleepless nights led to one conclusion: no matter what happened, she would still love him.

But, she realized while staring at his stunningly handsome face, sometimes love isn't enough.

Before she could think any further about her complex feelings towards him, Hermione spotted her and rushed over to her and Remus. She hid behind Isabelle as Sirius stormed over to them, and crossed his arms angrily.

"Tell Isabelle what you did," she spat.

"I'm sure it's not my business," she said, trying to excuse herself from the situation. This looked like it could get sticky, fast.

"Exactly," Hermione agreed angrily. She pointed a finger at Sirius. "And, my personal life isn't his business, either."

Remus saw the impending battle, and began to slowly back away. Isabelle stopped him in his tracks with a look. No way was she going to play referee between them by herself.

"Alright," she said to the teenage girl, "why don't we all go to the picnic table over there and talk about this?"

Hermione grumbled, but followed her to the table and sat down beside her. Skeptical, and a little afraid of what Isabelle was going to say, Sirius reluctantly followed them. He wasn't thrilled about the idea of her second-guessing his parental authority, but he didn't really see another option.

Rolling his eyes, Remus tagged along, knowing Isabelle would hurt him if he didn't. And, he really didn't want to mess with an angry pregnant woman. Besides, he was also curious about how she would handle this conflict. Especially since she and Sirius would be raising another child together soon. He smiled ironically across the table at her.

"What's so funny?" Sirius raised an eyebrow.

"Nothing at all." Isabelle's eyes shot fire, which highly amused Remus. "Anyway, what's going on here?"

"Oh, I just found out that he spent last night talking to my mother about me," she replied, gritting her teeth angrily.

Isabelle sat thoughtfully for a minute. She knew that, of course, from her earlier conversation with Remus. Along with other nice thoughts she conveniently gathered from her friend. She smiled internally as she caught Sirius' eye.

"And, why do you think that was?" she asked the teenager.

"Because I'm a 'problem child'," Hermione said sarcastically. "I don't know why you'd think that."

Sirius opened his mouth to speak, but saw Isabelle shake her head slightly out of the corner of his eye. Against his better judgment, he didn't say a word. His stomach knotted up, knowing he wasn't anywhere near her good list.

Maybe shutting up is a good idea, he admitted, wincing at the memory of his most recent argument with Isabelle.

"Hermione," she began, "I know you think what Sirius did was a horrible violation of your privacy, mostly because he did the same exact thing to me when I was your age."

"Really?" she asked, surprised.

"Yes, really."

"But, how were you a 'problem child'?"

Isabelle sighed. "You have no idea how wild I was back then. Sure, I had perfect grades and appeared to be a model student, but internally, I was a complete mess. Even your father doesn't know how close I was to being expelled my entire fifth year."

"What?" Sirius interrupted.

"Yes, because of that little prefect's bathroom incident. Point being," she looked into the teenager's eyes for emphasis, "I was self-destructing, fast. Can I trust you with a secret?"

Hermione nodded, wide-eyed.

"When I was a little girl, before Lily came to Dover, I was horribly abused and neglected, especially after my mum died. But, I never talked about any of it, so it just poisoned me from the inside out. No matter how many times Lily, Sirius or James asked me about it, I didn't say a word. Well, abused children tend to make really bad choices," her voice broke off.

Instinctively, Sirius reached across the table, squeezed her hand, and smiled at her supportively. Surprised at the spontaneous gesture, Isabelle found herself smiling back. In one moment, he reminded her why she loved him so much, despite himself.

"Of course, the abuse isn't an excuse for anything that I did," she continued, lost in his eyes. "I alone am responsible for all of my mistakes, which are too numerous to list."

"But, we should've been paying closer attention to you, instead of assuming that you were alright," he protested.

"I wouldn't talk, remember? Anyway," she turned to Hermione, "neither one of us wants you to make our mistakes. Between Sirius and I, there's nothing we haven't tried or done, and I mean nothing. We want you to have an easier life, a better life, free of all the guilt we carry because of our pasts."

She paused thoughtfully before continuing. "Both of us see you going down our road, and we want to stop you before you do something you'll always regret, even if you get angry with us for interfering with your personal life. No parent can sit idly by and let their child repeat every stupid mistake they ever made."

"And, Sirius learned from both personal experience and from watching me that childhood experiences have a huge impact on future actions. Well, he was a little indisposed during those years," she winked at him, "so, where was he going to go to find out about your childhood?"

"My parents."

"Exactly. We care, so just get used to it, kid. We're just one big, nosy family," Isabelle said. Hermione made a face.

"I've noticed." She couldn't help smiling back at them, though.

"Anyway, what are we doing here, when we could be celebrating the success of the best prank in Hogwarts history?" Isabelle asked, standing up.

"It is amazing, isn't it?" Hermione said a little too proudly. Remus and Sirius both stared at her, shell-shocked.

"Do I want to know who pulled off this prank?" Sirius asked Isabelle in Gaelic.

"Not for a few years, anyway," she replied with an innocent smile. "Chip off the old block, huh?"

"Definitely," he laughed.

"Um, I do speak Gaelic," Hermione interrupted them, irritated. Sirius rolled his eyes in Isabelle's direction.

"Nice to know," Isabelle said, narrowing her eyes. She put her arm around the teenager. "There is much you still need to learn, grasshopper. For starters, never admit everything you know. Faking ignorance can be a powerful weapon."

"Grasshopper?"

"It's a reference to Muggle culture, so you just wouldn't understand, Sirius," she said loftily, walking towards the stands with Hermione.

-----

Ron silently crept into the common room late Sunday night, hoping that Hermione would be at her usual table. She was, of course, for which he was immensely grateful. He snuck up behind her, silently praying that his little plan would work. 

"Close your eyes," he whispered in her ear. She jumped and gasped loudly.

"You scared me," she said angrily.

"Just close your eyes," he insisted. She sighed heavily.

"Fine."

"You can open them now," he said after placing a small, rectangular box in front of her.

"What's this?" she asked curiously.

"Open it and see," Ron laughed.

She gave him a funny look but lifted the lid, removing a beautiful midnight blue fountain pen. Ron gently took it out of her fingers to demonstrate how it works.

"I saw this in Diagon Alley yesterday," he explained, pulling off the cap. "It's charmed so that you can change the ink to ten different colors. I thought that you'd like it so that you can color-code all of your notes without having to cart around all of those inkwells."

Hermione looked at him, completely surprised. "Thank you."

"It'll also come in handy for the O.W.L. tests, because you won't have to stop in the middle of a thought to dip your quill in an inkwell," he continued.

"But, we're not allowed to use anything except quills," she said, frowning. Ron smiled internally and crossed his fingers, hoping that she would appreciate this tidbit of information.

"Not true," he corrected her. "I was in the library all night researching the topic, and I came across an interesting rule. Apparently a student challenged the quill rule about twenty-five years ago, and won an exception. You can use either a quill or a fountain pen for the O.W.L. and N.E.W.T. tests."

"Really?" Hermione was impressed at the amount of thought and effort he put into the present.

"Yep. Interestingly, the person who challenged the rule also shares the school record for the O.W.L. tests, and holds the school record for the N.E.W.T. tests."

"Must be Uncle James, then," she laughed.

"Close. Your mother."

"Do what? My mum wasn't exactly the scholarly type."

"Maybe she didn't want to give off that impression, but her records show that she was a big, fat nerd."

"How many O.W.L.'s did she get?" Hermione wondered.

"Fifteen. Same as Isabelle."

"No way. How ironic is that?" she mused. Ron didn't quite catch her meaning, but didn't inquire further.

"Anyway, I hope you like it," he said self-effacingly.

"I love it," she exclaimed. It's far better than clichéd gifts like flowers and candy, she thought happily. "But, what's the occasion?"

He leaned against the table. "Just to say that I'm sorry for fighting with you since New Year's. Look, Hermione, I'm crazy about you. But, I'd rather be your friend than nothing at all. I've really missed spending time with you. So, what do you say? Would you be willing to give things another shot? We can take things slowly, of course."

"Sure," she said, kicking out a chair from underneath the table. "As Phillip would say, cop a squat."

"Great. Can I look at your outline for Charms? I've been studying with those Ravenclaw girls – just studying – but, their notes aren't half as good as yours."

She beamed, and sorted through a tall stack of parchment rolls, finding her Charms outline. "Here you go. Anything in particular that I can help you with?"

"Yeah, those waterproof fires of yours. How do you do that?" he asked. Phillip Spence is a genius, Ron thought, relieved.

-----

Hermione leaned her head down on the table an hour later to take a quick nap before going through her Arithmancy notes again. As soon as her eyes closed, she felt a familiar dizziness pass over her. She landed in a small room with grey stonewalls, heated by a cheerfully burning fireplace. 

_Oh, no, not this dream again, she thought. Not now. _

_Ever since she could remember, she had had dreams at least once a week about her family. At least, she thought they were her family until last July. Now, she had no clue if these people were related to her somehow, random people, or simply figments of her imagination. _

_A tall, young blonde woman with a Farrah Faucett hairstyle sat Indian-style in the middle of the room on a thick red Persian rug. She drew her knees to her chest, staring at the fire blankly with an unreadable expression. A toddler, probably about a year and a half old, ran to the woman and pulled on her shirt. She picked up the little girl, rocking her slowly. _

_"__Mummy, where's Papa?" the toddler asked, possessing an incredible vocabulary for her age. _

_"__He's gone, Princess," she replied, trying not to cry. _

_"__Work?" _

_"__No, a bad wizard made him go away. He's not coming back." A single tear ran down the woman's face. The toddler patted her face cheerfully, not fully understanding her words. _

_"__Why?" _

_"__I wish I knew." She clutched the girl to her chest, as a man in a black cloak, with the hood covering his face, walked into the room. _

_"__It's time," he said, crossing her arms. _

_"__This isn't fair. I'm the only family she has left, really. Why can't she come with me?" the woman pleaded. _

_"__You know why," the man said harshly, holding out his arms for the toddler. She held the little girl even more tightly, causing her to squeal, alarmed. _

_"__I love you, Princess, even though I bet you won't remember me. Be good for your new mummy and daddy, ok?" Tears freely streamed down her face. "I promise that I'll never forget you. I'll wish on a star every night for the day when I can come get you, and we'll be a family again, you and I." _

_"__Love you, Mummy." _

_She reluctantly handed the girl over, kissing her goodbye and trying unsuccessfully not to collapse into sobs. The man turned crisply on his heel with the toddler, and began to walk out of the room. _

_"__Mummy? Mummy?" the girl began to understand what was happening, and attempted to leap out of the man's arms. "No! I want Mummy!" _

_The room began to swirl uncontrollably, and Hermione shut her eyes to keep from getting too dizzy. Years of experience taught her that little trick. She opened her eyes slowly, wondering what dream she had suddenly landed into. _

_The room was completely dark, with the curtains drawn tightly to prevent light from entering the room. She felt her way along the wall to the corner she always sat in during this particular dream. The door opened, and a man walked into the room, yawning so she couldn't quite make out his face. _

_"__Papa, can't sleep," came a small voice from the other side of the room. "Sing?" _

_"__Sing what?" the man asked groggily. _

_"__Stairway song." _

_"__Will you lay down and be good?" _

_"__Promise." _

_"__Alright, I'll sing the stairway song." The man sat down and tuned a guitar for a minute. "Only my daughter would consider 'Stairway to Heaven' a lullaby." After he finished singing, Hermione heard him stand up quietly and put the guitar on the floor. _

_"__Sing my song?" _

_"__Yes, but you're going to sleep after that," he said firmly. He picked the guitar back up, and began to sing. _

_Hush my love now don't you cry  
Everything will be all right  
Close your eyes and drift in dream  
Rest in peaceful sleep _

_If there's one thing I hope   
I showed you  
Hope I showed you  
Just give love to all  
_

_Hermione smiled, and sang the rest of the song along with the man in her head. After all, she probably knew it as well as he did. He ended the song, and crept out of the room. _

_The room whirled, and Hermione found herself back in the common room with her face buried in her Astronomy textbook. She groggily lifted her head, and trudged up to her dorm room. _

-----

Isabelle paced nervously outside Severus' small cottage. Two angry voices spilled outside, and the front door suddenly opened. 

"I don't care if Remizov kidnapped me, and wants me dead! I'll die of boredom if I have to spend one more freaking moment trapped in this castle. I'm going back to New York," the female voice yelled.

"Sure, why don't you just paint a bulls-eye target on your forehead that says, 'I really want to get killed by Death Eaters, because I clearly have no common sense'!" Severus roared.

"Because all that pretty writing won't fit on my forehead," Stacey replied sweetly, kissing him on the cheek, which only made him angrier. She turned to walk outside, nearly running over Isabelle.

"Isabelle, what are you doing out here?" she asked, narrowing her eyes.

"I wanted to talk to both of you, so where are you going?" she replied.

"Back home." She checked her watch. "Well, I really must be heading out. I need to sign the apartment rental papers before five o'clock. I'll owl you later, ok?"

"Sure." She smiled sadly, mostly because she was counting on Stacey to keep Severus from losing his temper. "Take care of yourself."

"I always do." With that, she headed down the lane to Hogsmeade swinging her small suitcase. Severus' eyes followed her retreating frame, fuming.

"Well, I guess I had better be going home," Isabelle tried to excuse herself.

"Not so fast," Severus said in an ominous tone. "I wanted to talk to you, anyway."

Fabulous, she thought, following him into the living room. She sat down on the sofa and drew her knees to her chest. "What about?"

"Would you happen to know about who tampered with a certain Quiddich game yesterday?" he spat.

"Why on earth would you think that?" she asked innocently.

"The writing on the pitch. It's your modus operandi." He put his fingertips together, drumming them thoughtfully.

"So? That doesn't mean that I would actually help students plan a prank that would get them expelled. Give your conspiracy theory mind a rest, why don't ya?" she teased.

"Never. So, why did you want to speak to me?"

Isabelle gulped, nervous beyond belief. "Before I say anything else, I just wanted to tell you that I love you very much. And, I would never, ever do anything to hurt you intentionally."

"What did you do?" He looked horrified.

"I'm pregnant," she said in a very small voice.

"What?" he thundered. "Does this baby have a father?"

"I love you," she repeated in a barely audible tone of voice. Severus looked at her disbelievingly.

"Oh, no. Anyone but him. Please tell me it's anyone but him," he pleaded.

"I'm sorry, Sev, but I can't." She hung her head, waiting for the storm.

"Please, just tell me you're kidding."

"I'm not. I'm pregnant." She paused. "With Sirius' baby."

Severus leaned back in his chair with a mixed look of disgust, dismay and anger. "Oh, Isabelle."

"I know what you must be thinking," she began. He cut her off with a look.

"You have no idea. Does he know?"

She shook her head no. "I wanted to tell you first."

"How thoughtful," he said, a little more sarcastically than he intended. "You don't plan to keep this baby, do you?"

"Of course I do!" Isabelle was scandalized.

"I thought so." He sighed, trying to come to grips with the situation. She stood up and sat on the floor, and put her head on his knee.

"I know you can't stand Sirius, but I still love him, despite everything. And, I want his baby very badly, even if he doesn't want either of us." She sat up and looked into his troubled eyes. "But, he does love me Severus, he really does."

"He had a great way of showing it," he fumed.

"No kidding. Trust me, if it wasn't for the children – all three of them – I'd just say the hell with him, and walk away."

"You can still do that," he said in a rush. She chuckled softly.

"When you have a child together, it creates a permanent bond. Sirius and I will always have that connection, no matter what. He wants to marry me, Severus."

"Are you nuts, Isabelle?"

"No. I think children should have as intact of a family as possible."

He couldn't believe his ears. "Didn't you learn anything from your first two husbands? What, do you think things will work out the third time around?"

"It's possible. Besides, I wasn't technically married the first time," she reminded him.

"Oh, come on. Just because you pulled some mumbo-jumbo about not being married in the Church--"

"It's not mumbo-jumbo. If a priest doesn't marry a Catholic, there is no marriage. Which came in handy, I must admit. But, I never meant to hurt anyone. I had to follow my dreams," Isabelle said earnestly.

"And crush Phillip's in the process? That's low, and it amazes me that he can even look at you throw yourself at Black the way you do. What happens when the great and powerful Sirius Black breaks your heart? Will you pull the same crap to wriggle out of that marriage, too?"

"No. If I'm going to marry Sirius, it would be for real this time. A marriage that would be legal in every sense, even by the Church. I want to set a good example for the baby, that its parents live their beliefs."

"Their beliefs?" Severus parroted. "Saints be praised, Sirius Black is a Catholic. Should've seen that one coming."

"You act like that's a rarity. It's the largest Church in the world, for crying out loud. I'm not exactly a minority here."

"In a mostly Wiccan society, yes you are, and you know it. Wow, you've found one of the five good Catholic wizards in the world. Congratulations, I'll owl the Pope."

"That was uncalled for." She frowned. Severus was taking this harder than she thought.

"You're the one who jumped into bed with Black, not me."

"Again, uncalled for."

"And having a fling with a man ten years older than you, who raised you for pity's sake, was a brilliant thing to do?"

Isabelle's eyes clouded. "I didn't say that it was. But, that's over and done with, so there's no use beating a dead horse. Or kicking me while I'm down. I came to you because no matter what I did, you always supported me. You're the only man who's never let me down. Please don't start now."

He looked into her sincere green eyes and melted. Why did she have to say that? he groaned internally.

And, it wasn't really her that he was angry with anyway, he admitted. It was that damn irresponsible Black, who used Isabelle and threw her away like she was a piece of trash, leaving her to shoulder all the consequences of their actions alone. Didn't he know how sweet and trusting she was? His blood boiled at the thought of her naively believing that, after all these years, her dreams were finally coming true.

Only for Black to rip those dreams to shreds, he thought, irate. As if he's such a saint himself.

His actions reminded Severus of the Biblical story that Isabelle reads the children, where the prophet Nathan tells King David a parable of two men. One man was rich in every way, and could have anything he wanted. The other man was poor, and had nothing of value except one little sheep. The rich man, unsatisfied with everything he had, took the sheep away from the poor man.

Sirius Black is exactly like that rich man, he thought. He has every material possession he wants, and he could and did have any woman he desired. But, I've never had any money. And Black swooped down and took the only two people I've ever loved away from me. It simply wasn't fair.

A wry smile spread across his lips as he remembered the end of the story. Because he stole the sheep, the rich man was punished severely. Which is so true, Severus thought. I may have lost Regina, but he did, too. And, he'll get his just desserts for what he did to Isabelle. I just have to sit and wait.

Severus sighed, shoving his hatred for Sirius to the back of his mind. "So, when's this miracle baby due?"

"The middle of January," she beamed.

"Have you seen a doctor yet?" he asked protectively. Isabelle nodded.

"First-class treatment all the way," she said with a wicked grin. "At least Sirius is good for something, huh?"

"I wouldn't go that far."

"Hey, do you have anything to eat? I'm starving," she said, changing the subject as her stomach rumbled loudly.

"Yeah, I think Stacey left half of a chocolate pie in the fridge."

Isabelle jumped up, and returned a minute later, holding the pie in one had, and a spoon in the other. She sat down delicately and dove into the dessert as if she hadn't eaten in days. Which, she hadn't.

"What's going on with you and Stacey?" she asked through a mouthful of pie. Severus rolled his eyes.

"Same old, same old."

"When are y'all going to stop being stubborn and get together already?"

"And ruin a good thing? Never," he said lightly.

-----

"Sirius, I don't really know how to tell you this, so I'll just say it. I'm pregnant." 

Isabelle frowned at her foggy reflection in the bathroom mirror. She wiped off a large circle so that she could see her facial expressions more clearly. For the past hour, she had stood in front of the mirror, trying to rehearse what to say to Sirius. And so far, nothing sounded quite right.

"No, that makes it sound like the baby's totally my responsibility. Sirius, we're having a baby." She turned her head to one side, trying to look mature, failing miserably. "Why am I so baby-faced? Ok, focus Isabelle. Sirius--"

"Yes?"

She gasped, jumped and turned around in one swift, but surprisingly graceful, movement. Sirius stood in the doorway of the bathroom, with his arms crossed, leaning against the doorjamb. He gazed at her intently, waiting for her to speak.

Isabelle completely lost her train of thought as she stared at him. Blushing despite her best efforts not to, she remembered just how good Sirius looked first thing in the morning with that tousled hair and still-sleepy look in his eyes. That, and he sleeps without a shirt, which is always a nice view. She shook her head violently, trying to get herself together.

This isn't exactly the time or the place I had imagined for this, she thought miserably. But, what other choice do I have?"

"Hi." Oh, absolute genius, Isabelle, she lamented.

"Hi, yourself."

He couldn't take his eyes off her. Her damp hair hung around her shoulders, curling slightly and framing her face perfectly. The steam from the bathroom gave her skin a healthy, but irresistibly sexy glow. Not to mention the fact that she was only wearing a bath towel.

Get a hold of yourself, he told himself sternly. Don't let her see how much you still care.

"I wanted to talk to you," she stammered. "That is, I wanted to tell you something."

He yawned. "'Bout what?"

"The baby," she said quickly without thinking.

"Oh. I already knew about that."

"Wh-what?"

"Yeah, Remus told me," he said nonchalantly. Isabelle's jaw dropped and she blinked, shocked.

"He did?"

"Well, it's not exactly a secret, especially at Hogwarts, the gossip capital of the universe."

"Oh." She felt like she was going to be sick. "So, how do you feel about it, then?"

"I'm happy for them, of course." He shrugged, wondering why she would ask him such an odd question.

Them? Isabelle's mind scrambled, trying to think of a way to figure out what Sirius was talking about. Luckily, he kept talking.

"Poor Fleur." He shook his head, laughing at the memory. "Fred and George really let Charlie have it last night at dinner. You missed a good show."

"I bet."

So, Fleur's pregnant, too? she thought with a smile. Well, it makes sense. After all, the Easter holidays were her honeymoon. Guess they decided to start a family quickly. She couldn't wait to congratulate her friend.

"I couldn't imagine being in their place, though. I definitely don't envy them one bit," Sirius said.

"What do you mean?" A knot instantly formed in her stomach.

"The bottles, diapers, three o'clock a.m. feedings," he replied, wrinkling his nose. "It was hard enough at twenty-five. I couldn't imagine having a baby at my age. Especially since Voldemort's back, and he's shown in the past that he doesn't have a problem with killing innocent children."

"Right. Well, I'm going to get ready for class, so I'll see you later, ok?"

Isabelle escaped to the safety of her room without waiting for a reply. Obviously, Sirius didn't want a baby, and she didn't have the heart to tell him what he would consider bad news. Not yet, anyway.

* * *

Alrighty, time for some reader responses! Woo-hoo for having reviews so I _can _do them. As always, mad props to beta goddess & ardent reviewer **StarWest45**. And also to **Torifire126**, who also faithfully reviews, despite having read this the first time around on the HP boards.

**Ashlee** -- nope, this isn't it by far. Part V has 32 chapters, & so far, Part VI has 19. I'm in the middle of writing Chapter 20, & they've _just _gotten back to Hogwarts. The Trio, that is. Other characters don't make it there for quite a while, & some die in Part V, so they don't make it at all. Which is a bummer, but I have a penchant for drama.

**StelaMaris -- **Thank you, ma'am! I really had fun in class entertaining myself with how I can make the most outlandish plot ideas humanly conceivable fit the canon. Well, the pre-OoP canon, since that was what I was dealing with.

**hunterian -- **The beginning of Part VI's devoted to Sirius & Isabelle sorting themselves out, & I'm pretty happy with the results. Hopefully I'll get that uploaded pretty soon.

**A very angry person **-- Too funny! Technically, Intellectual Property infringements don't really apply to trademarks, which Mack is. But no, I don't own Mack nor do I take credit for their lovely, large trucks. Well, it would be an IP infringement if I started a truck company & the average person would confuse my trucks for actual Mack trucks, allowing me to capitalize on their goodwill. But that's a little complicated & reminding me way too much of legal crap, which I use fic writing to escape from.

**Trevor the Enchanter **-- Didn't I say that Sirius is the brightest star in the sky? Pretty sure, but I _did _write it over two years ago. I'll check out your story as soon as I can, 'k? Going nuts trying to finish my law degree...

**Angel **-- I agree, it would've been a dumb ending if I left it there. But, considering that this story really _has _no end (just ask my betas), read on & let me know what you think?

**n6uos -- **Didn't I warn you that this story's a little offbeat? Sorry you didn't like it, though.

**DarkSov** -- Came up with the concept for that before the idea of Muggle technology in Hogwarts was firmly answered by the goddess of the HP universe JKR herself. That was my answer, & yup, it was wrong. But I figure I'll continue in my wrongness since, well, I'm too lazy to fix it.

Thanks to **Titanic-HarryPotter-lvr-2, ****Serenitystone****, Kassandra07, Malevolent** for the very complimentary reviews. I live for feedback; I really do. Hope that was everyone. If not, I'm very sorry & I have no problem blaming pregnancy mind-loss as the culprit.


	31. Chapter 28

**Author's Note: **Sorry it's been so long since I've updated this...hopefully after the baby's born, I'll have a more normal-ish routine. Wishful thinking, huh? Anyhoo, here goes...

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**Chapter 28**

Isabelle stomped into the dungeon classroom and slammed her bag on the teachers' desk with a loud bang. Hearing the noise, Severus poked his head outside his office.

"Trouble in paradise?" he asked snidely.

"Don't start." She clutched her head in her hands, pacing up and down the classroom. "I just ran into a little setback, that's all."

"What kind of setback?" He leaned against the doorway and crossed his arms.

"The kind that's not your business, Severus dear. I need more time."

"Well, I'd say you that have a good five months or so before Sirius figures out that something's going on. Unless you plan to have a sudden weight gain that's concentrated in your midsection."

"You think you're cute, don't you?" She walked towards him threateningly. "Watch it, or--"

"Or, you'll what?" he laughed.

"I warned you not to start with me today. Oh, why do you have to be such a pain?" she said, exasperated because she couldn't stay angry with him. He shrugged.

"Natural charm."

She rolled her eyes as students began to file into the classroom. With a hesitant look on his face, Harry walked up to her before taking his seat.

"Aunt Isabelle?"

"What's up?" she asked, fumbling through her bag for her lesson plans.

"Um, I was just wondering if I could talk to you this afternoon," he said quietly. "In private."

Her eyebrows shot up. "Anything in particular going on?"

"How's four thirty?" Harry hoped that she understood what he was trying to say.

"Perfect." She ruffled his hair. "Better get to your seat before Sev notices you."

"Yeah, good idea." He chucked at the irate look on the Potions master's face before turning to walk back to his desk.

"Kissing up to your nephew so that he takes your side when Black hits the roof?" Severus asked snidely. Isabelle smiled sweetly.

"Sev, I'm not going to surround my baby with negativity. So, if you can't be positive, I'll just have to drown you out."

"What are you talking about?"

"Babies are sensitive. They respond to their outside environments," she said expertly.

"It's a cluster of cells."

"There you go with your negativity again."

"It's not negativity. It's a medical fact."

Isabelle plugged her ears and began to sing. "Papa, I know you're going to be upset. 'Cause I was always your little girl. But you should know by now, I'm not a baby."

"Cute."

"Hmm? Can't hear you," she replied. "You always taught me right from wrong. I need your help, daddy please be strong. I may be young at heart, but I know what I'm saying."

"You're so childish."

"The one you warned me all about. The one you said I could do without. We're in an awful mess, and I don't mean maybe."

Severus forcibly removed her hands from her ears. "Why are you so cheery, anyway?"

"Hormones." She smiled. "They keep me from wanting to lock you and Sirius in the same room for mental amusement. Between the two of you, I'm going insane. That way, y'all can finally have that argument that's been brewing for twenty-two years about who's screwed up the other's life more."

He began to speak, but Isabelle hushed him by putting her index finger on his lips. "Nuh-uh. No negativity about Sirius. He may be a lot of things, but he's still my baby's father. And, you're not going to insult him in front of his own child."

Severus closed his eyes angrily and stomped off to begin class. Isabelle giggled, hearing him mutter something profane under his breath. She sat down at the desk, removed a massive stack of ungraded potions exams, and motioned for Viktor to come over.

"Hey, can you grade these second year exams, please? Here's the answer key," she said, pointing. "You can use the empty classroom across the hall, since you'll probably need to spread them out."

Viktor nodded, trying to hide his displeasure at being given such a menial task, especially since this was Hermione's Potions class. But, he dutifully picked up the stack of exams and exited the room. Severus saw him leave out of the corner of his eye and walked to Isabelle. He raised an eyebrow.

"And what was that?" he asked.

"Giving the teaching assistant something to do," she defended herself. "Look, when I was a teaching assistant at Hogwarts, I actually taught classes. Krum's getting off easy."

"Right," he said sarcastically.

Before he could say another word, a deafening crash echoed through the room. Isabelle looked up as a white cloud mushroomed towards the ceiling.

"What in the--" she whistled, rushing to the back of the classroom. Hermione stood in front of a dripping, cracked cauldron, about to burst into tears.

"Good job," Draco sneered. Isabelle shut him up with a _look_.

"I'm sorry," Hermione whispered. "I was putting in the lemon peel, and my hand slipped. So, the whole lemon fell in the cauldron."

"That's ok. Everyone's made a cauldron explode sooner or later," Isabelle said soothingly, cleaning up the mess with a flick of her wand.

"Yeah, but not like that." Draco laughed spitefully.

"Worse. Much, much worse." She bit her lip, deciding to take the spotlight off poor Hermione. "Ok, I'll tell you about a couple of my accidents, as long as y'all keep working. Deal?"

"Deal," the class answered eagerly in unison.

"When I went to America, I decided to go to Muggle high school. Their senior year in high school is about the same as seventh year here. Anyway, there's a huge dance at the end of senior year called the prom. It's a huge deal, for more reasons that I can get into during class," she said, wiggling her eyebrows suggestively.

The whole class giggled, knowing exactly what she was getting at, especially the ones who also took Muggle Studies class. Isabelle looked around the room. Every set of eyes in the classroom was locked on hers, especially Harry's. She nearly burst out laughing; his do-I-really-want-to-know-this look was identical to James'.

"Well, one of my friends and I were doing a makeover on one of my other friends. She had really mousy brown hair, so we decided to put a few highlights here and there. Everything was going great, until this fabulous Billy Idol video came on MTV, and I totally forgot the highlighting potion was simmering on the stove." All of the girls in the room gasped loudly.

"Oh, no," Lavender Brown breathed, covering her mouth with her hands.

"Oh, yes. The entire cauldron exploded, sending burnt potion and tiny copper fragments all over the kitchen. The noise was so loud that we needed Amplifying charms to hear the music at the prom that night. Worse of all, the apartment smelled like sour milk for a week."

"Gross," Seamus whispered.

"Tell me about it," Severus said under his breath.

"Will you tell us another story?" Pansy Parkinson asked as nonchalantly as possible. She didn't want her fellow Slytherins to know that she actually _liked_ Professor Evans.

"Absolutely."

For the rest of the class, Isabelle entertained them with various stories from potions and experiments gone horribly wrong. When class ended, Hermione quietly walked up to her, clutching her books nervously.

"Thanks," she whispered.

"No problem."

Isabelle grinned, knowing she meant both distracting the class and sending Viktor away. The looks Ron shot him were positively murderous. She caught herself right before asking if she and Ron had gotten back together.

If Hermione wants me to know that information, she'd tell me, Isabelle rationalized.

The teenager smiled, and hurried out of the classroom. Witnessing the entire scene, Severus' eyes narrowed suspiciously. When the room emptied, he walked over to Isabelle, who was packing up her bag to head to the Muggle Studies lab.

"You're shameless," he whispered in her ear.

"What do you mean?" she puzzled.

"Buttering up little Gracie for the news that she's going to have a new little brother or sister," he hissed. "Trying to become her mummy, huh?"

That struck a nerve. Isabelle slammed her bag on the desk and whipped around angrily. "I _am_ her mother. I always have been. I always will be."

"Pity she doesn't remember you," he said facetiously. Tears stung her eyes.

"That's low."

"No, low would be stating the simple fact that you're not the woman she wishes was around when she needs motherly advice. And, that you have no place in her heart anymore. She forgot you a long time ago."

Isabelle was struck by the bitter truth of his words, and hurt that he would actually say that to her. Suddenly consumed by rage, she slapped him across the face as hard as she could. Trying not to cry, she grabbed her bag and rushed out of the dungeons. She needed to be alone.

-----

Humming quietly, Isabelle opened her desk drawer and removed a large bag of salt and vinegar potato chips. She eagerly ripped into the bag, trying not to get the chips on her lesson plans for the seminar class tomorrow night. After going over her notes again, she sat back, thoughtfully munching on her snack. 

While she felt perfectly justified in smacking the tar out of Severus for his lip, Isabelle knew that his words came out of a good place in his heart. From the first, he didn't want her to suffer. And, holding on to the past affections of a little girl who neither knew her nor cared would only bring her pain. She knew that, but she had to try to reach Hermione any way that she could.

"Some Seer she is," Isabelle mumbled, taking a big swallow of iced tea. "Oops, caffeine's not good for the baby, is it?"

She guiltily swallowed the beverage, pouring the remainder out of the office window. Harry knocked on the partially opened door, pausing as he watched his aunt pouring out her drink.

"Er, hi Aunt Isabelle," he said, giving her a funny look.

"Hey," she replied, smiling brightly. "Chips?"

He wrinkled his nose. "No, thanks. I, um, don't want to spoil my dinner."

"Suit yourself." She shrugged and grabbed another handful out of the bag.

"It is alright if I close the door?" She nodded, and Harry shut the door with a flick of his wand.

"What's up?" Isabelle asked, crawling underneath her desk.

She could've sworn that she stashed a bottle of water around there somewhere. After poking around for a minute, she squealed triumphantly. Harry laughed at the sight of her disheveled head popping over the neat stacks of papers and books. She truly looked like an absent-minded professor.

"Can I cut to the chase?" he asked, an agitated look appearing on his face. Isabelle nodded, puzzled. "You're going to lose your court case, aren't you?"

"Well, I'd say I at least a 50-50 shot, right?" she said bravely.

Harry stood up and started pacing the small office. "Come on, we both know that Remizov bought off the court. You don't have to pretend for me."

"The decision comes out this Saturday, but yeah, I'm expecting to lose." She sighed heavily.

"And, what then? He's going to come after you."

"Why do you think that?"

"He's evil. I know how evil works."

"But, he can't get on Hogwarts grounds, so don't worry about it," she said dismissively.

"Oh, come on!" Harry exclaimed, throwing up his hands. "Aunt Isabelle, let's stop playing games, ok? I know that you're trying to protect me from all of the awful things that you've seen and that have happened to you. But, I've lost family and a friend to Voldemort, too. There's nothing to protect me from. Please let me help you."

"I promised myself a long time ago that I wouldn't drag you into this," she said firmly, looking into his eyes.

"I'm already involved, and I'm not going anywhere." He crossed his arms resolutely and stared her down.

Lily's eyes stared back at her with every bit of her bravery and resolve. It was eerie. Lily. That's it, she thought excitedly, jumping up from her chair. She ran over to a large shoebox and began rifling through it, tossing the rejected parchments behind her back.

"What are you looking for?" Harry asked, amazed at his aunt's energy.

"When I find it, I'll let you know," she answered distractedly, picking up an old, yellowed envelope. She flipped open the parchment, and began reading.

_Dear Isabelle, How's it going, little sister? It seems like so long since I've had the time to sit down and write a nice, long letter. But, Harry's taking a nap, so we'll see how far I can get before he wakes up! _

_  
_She dropped the letter like it was on fire. This was exactly what she wanted to find, but that didn't make it any easier to read Lily's last letter to her. The letter rolled across the rug, landing neatly in front of Harry's shoe. He picked it up and opened it curiously.

"No!" She screamed, snatching it from his grasp roughly. "You can't read that!"

"I'm sorry," he said, wide-eyed, backing up a few steps. "It's just that I saw my mum's handwriting, and--"

Isabelle melted. "Oh, Harry, it's me who should apologize. And, don't worry. Nosiness runs in the family. I could tell you things about Petunia that would make your hair curl."

"No way."

"Remind me of this conversation in a few years, and I'll show you a whole new side of my darling oldest sister," she winked.

"Oh, I will," he said, with a devious grin that made Isabelle proud.

"Like I said, I'm sorry that I ripped the letter away from you like that. It's just that I was kind of a party girl at Hogwarts. And I wouldn't want you to read the letter and think poorly of me." She looked at the ground shyly, lying through her teeth of course.

If Harry or Sirius knew what was _really_ in that letter…Isabelle shuddered at the idea. It would shatter both of them. And, it was her job to take care of them; she promised Regina and Lily that she would.

No one except Isabelle knew that Lily was pregnant when she died, so she took that secret to the grave with her. And Isabelle didn't really see the point in revealing that information now, after all these years. It would only serve to hurt the people she loved most.

Besides, if Sirius found out about Lily, and then learned about their baby, he'd instantly morph into psychotic overprotection mode. Nothing made him more uptight and stressed out than a threat to one of the children. No matter what he thought of her or the baby, Sirius would move heaven and earth to keep any of the children out of danger.

"I'd never think poorly of you," Harry said, jarring her out of her thoughts. He smiled at her so sweetly that she melted again.

How could Petunia be so cruel to such a wonderful kid? Isabelle wondered, shaking her head.

"Thanks," she said, smiling back. "Well, the reason that I wanted to find this letter is that Lily jotted down some charms that she developed shortly before she died. Really clever, but nearly impossible to perform, charms if I remember correctly."

"Charms?" He stared at her blankly.

"Well, if my darling husband decides to throw a party on Hogwarts grounds with a few of his good buddies, then we need to be prepared. But, truthfully I can't see away he could get on grounds."

"Remember last year," Harry said. "Do you think he could set up a portkey somewhere?"

"That's possible. But, that was an inside job, and Voldie doesn't have an inside man this year."

"Voldie?" he laughed.

"Yeah, your dad made that one up. Let's think, here. If my lazy husband wanted to attack us, how would he do it?"

"He can't Apperate on grounds," Harry said thoughtfully. "And a portkey's out, so he probably won't charm his way here. He doesn't know the back entrances through Hogsmeade to get to the castle. What does that leave?"

"Polyjuice potion."

"Huh?"

Isabelle flung herself into a chair. "It's so deceptively simple. Sergei has some of the best chemists on planet earth manufacturing his disgusting designer drugs. Whipping up a simple polyjuice potion would be child's play in comparison."

"Designer drugs?" Harry repeated. She waved her hand dismissively.

"That's another story for another day. I bet Sergei would try to sneak on grounds posing as another person."

"But, Barty Crouch did that last year. Isn't that--"

"Lazy? Cliché? Yup, which is why I'm almost positive that that's what he'll do," Isabelle decided.

And, I'll be ready for him, she thought triumphantly. She looked at Harry thoughtfully, considering whether or not to talk about his Discerner gifts with him. Mummy P began my training at the age of eight, she reasoned, so he's definitely old enough to control the power.

But, I can't do that without consulting Sirius first, she groaned internally. Because he's Harry's guardian, not me, she thought, frowning. If it were up to me, I'd be training him six days a week. However, Sirius worried that if the children used their special magical gifts, they could be exploited like Isabelle was. While she couldn't fault his reasoning, she simply disagreed.

So, I'll just teach him everything else that I can, she thought determinedly. Beginning with the charms. She carefully made the entire letter disappear except for those portions about the charms, and gave it to Harry.

"Can you figure out what we're supposed to do, here?" she asked, watching the look on his face as he deciphered Lily's handwriting. He held the letter like it was a precious, sacred object, which made Isabelle smile. She did the exact same thing with her own mother's letters.

"Well, she says the charm will only work for Discerners. What's that?"

Crap, Isabelle thought, biting her lip. Oh, screw it, she decided. Harry's my nephew, and I'm going to teach him how to use his gift even if Sirius pitches a royal temper tantrum. It certainly wouldn't be the first time.

So, she sat him down and gave him the exact same lectures that Mummy P gave her all those years ago. Harry listened, captivated, until she finished.

"But, how do I read people's minds?" he asked practically.

"By doing the exercises that I'm teaching you. You don't have to learn how to be a Discerner if you don't want to. It's a blessing, and a curse."

"I'll do anything that'll help kill Voldie." He shrugged one shoulder casually. "Besides, I'd sure like to be able to read Virginia's mind. I don't know where she's coming from half the time. Would make life a whole lot easier."

"Yeah, and she'd get amazing presents, too," Isabelle joked.

"Hey – is that how you knew _exactly_ what I wanted for Christmas?"

She smiled innocently. "So, what does Lily say to do?"

"To use the Deflecting Charm at the same time your opponent curses you. Wow, that's nearly impossible."

"I told you so," Isabelle said wryly. "Well, Charms wasn't my best subject, so how about we learn this together?"

"You've never learned these?" Harry asked incredulously.

She looked down guiltily. "No, I've always been kind of lazy about it. Potions comes much more easily to me, and there's usually a potion version of every charm."

"True. I never really thought about that before," he said slowly. "Well, the first thing we're supposed to do is to pick an object to deflect the curse into."

Isabelle looked around the room for a minute, finally plucking a stuffed Winnie the Pooh bear off her bookshelves. "Sorry, Pooh old boy, you're about to get hexed. What now?"

"When your opponent begins a hex, say Declino, followed by the hex's name. Oh, yeah, you're supposed to point your wand to the object that the hex is supposed to go to. What in the world? Mum's as confusing as my textbook, I swear."

"Thank you. I told her that my entire childhood," she said, feeling vindicated. "It's kind of nice to be able to talk about her with you."

"Yeah, it is." He smiled shyly.

"Ok, I think I get what Lily was trying to explain. Let me set it up, and then we can have some fun."

Isabelle put poor Winnie the Pooh on a short stool in the middle of the room. Then, she asked Harry to stand on one side of the office, and she walked to the opposite side.

"Alright, wands out," she instructed.

"Uh, if I'm going to ever use this on Voldemort, I'm going to have to go wandless," he reminded her.

"Hey, I was trying to go easy on you first, Potter." She shrugged, put her wand down, and rubbed her hands together eagerly. "Bring it on."

"Flip--" he began.

"Declino Flipendo!" Isabelle exclaimed, pointing her index finger towards Pooh. Both watched in amazement as the bear flew off the stool, landing in a wastebasket. They dissolved in laughter.

"Wicked," Harry said in awe.

"No kidding. I never knew Charms could be this much fun. Well, now that we know how this works, why don't I try it on you?"

"Ok," he agreed nervously, trying to concentrate. She fought the urge to turn his hair fuchsia, deciding on a fairly harmless charm instead.

"Mobiliarbus!" she incanted.

She raised Harry a foot in the air and landed him neatly on top of her desk. He jumped off, shaking his head in exasperation.

"That is so much harder than it looks," he told her.

"You'll get it," she said reassuringly. "If you could perform the Patronus Charm in your third year, you'll get this one."

"How'd you hear about that?"

"Remus."

"Gotcha. Well auntie, I'm ready for more," he said, determined to master the charm.

She grinned, and turned his robes into a 1970's polyester leisure suit, truly making him look like James' clone. Harry caught a glimpse of his reflection in the mirror, and grimaced. The sight of him made Isabelle literally roll around on the floor in hysterics.

After fixing his robes, they spent the next hour sending hexes at each other. As they began to get the hang of the charm, their curses became more elaborate and rowdy. Smoke filled the office more than once, causing Isabelle to crack the door open. Suddenly, Sirius burst into the room, wand drawn.

"What the hell is going on in here?" he said, much more angrily than he intended to. "I thought you were being attacked or something."

Apparently I'm not the only person who thinks that Remizov's going to show up, Harry thought ruefully. He watched Sirius stare his aunt down.

"Nope. Just having a little fun," she said evenly.

"What sort of fun?" he asked suspiciously, looking at the now mangled Pooh bear on the stool. Isabelle swallowed nervously.

"I was training Harry," she admitted in Gaelic.

Sirius quietly exploded. "You what?"

"I didn't stutter," she said, drawing herself to her full height.

Harry looked from one to the other, trying to figure out what their conversation was about. It really irritated him when they started speaking in another language. He settled for trying to use his newly found skills to Discern what they were thinking about.

"Isabelle, how could you do this without consulting me first?"

He was more hurt than angry, Harry realized. But, why?

"Because you would've said no. And, I'm tired of asking your permission to help my nephew defend himself."

"He's a child. This is too much responsibility to put on his shoulders."

"Mummy P didn't think it was too much responsibility," Isabelle threw in his face. He flinched.

"And, I had no clue what was going on. If I did, I would've said the exact same thing. Neither one of us had much of a childhood, Belle. Can you blame me for wanting something different for Harry?"

"No, I don't." She sighed.

"Do you want him to end up being exploited by the Ministry, like you did?"

"No."

"There you go. End of story." Sirius crossed his arms.

"Harry's stronger than I am, and smarter, too."

"I sincerely doubt that," he scoffed.

"Fine," she screamed. "He's not a naively trusting person, like I am! When people tell him things, he has the common sense to question whatever they say! Unlike me. I _believed_ that the Ministry could hurt you. I _believed_ that Sergei cared about me. And, I _believed_ every bloody word that you said in Dover."

Harry looked at them disbelievingly. So, they really did have a fling over Easter holidays, he thought. But, something obviously happened, or they wouldn't be at each other's throats.

"And, I _believed_ you," he spat sarcastically.

"This is about Harry, not us. If there ever really was an 'us' in the first place." She was nearly nose-to-nose with Sirius. "I'm going to train him, no matter what you say. He's almost a man, and old enough to make his own choices. And, he chose the training."

"He's a fifteen year old boy," he repeated.

"Sirius, don't do this." She put her hand on his arm.

"Do what? He's my responsibility, and I'll be damned if I let history repeat itself." He looked out of the window, clenching his jaw. "I lost all of you once. I'm not going to make that mistake again."

"Stop it! Stop blaming yourself for everything that happened. Voldemort killed James and Lily; you didn't. Peter tricked all of us. Well, except for Gracie, but that's beside the point. What happened back then isn't your fault, so stop trying to atone for sins that you didn't commit. You couldn't protect us back then, and you can't now. The best that we can do is prepare for the worst. Here, look at this." She shoved Lily's letter in his hand. Sirius scanned the page.

"Is this how she--"

"Yeah. It's the only way to take Voldemort out, Sirius."

"I know that, but that doesn't mean that I have to like it, or approve of what you do."

"Since when do you approve of anything I do?" she asked, trying to mask her hurt feelings. He rolled his eyes.

"I refuse to go there, Belle. Who you do is your own business."

"Oh no, you didn't," she screamed.

A sharp pain seared through her midsection, causing her to gasp loudly. Petrified, she lowered herself to the ground. Her eyes met Harry's, and she knew instantly that he realized exactly what was going on.

"Aunt Isabelle, are you alright?" he asked, grabbing her bottle of water and kneeling beside her. She nodded vigorously.

"Fine. I think Sirius was just leaving," she said, giving him a piercing look. He threw up his hands and stomped out of the room.

"The baby's his, isn't it?" Harry asked quietly, sitting down beside her.

"Yeah."

He put his arm around her. "Well, I'm here for you, even if he's not. And don't worry, I won't tell anyone."

"Thanks," she replied gratefully.

"Hey, I have to go meet Ginny for dinner," he said, standing up and giving her a concerned look. "Take care of that cousin of mine, ok?"

She laughed. "Will do."

* * *

**Angel** -- Here's the update! Hope you enjoy...

**nastygurl** -- Thanks!

**SashaBT245** -- Muchas Gracias! (Don't know how to say it in French.) You had better keep writing...

**dweem-angel** -- Thanks! (I seem to be saying a lot of that, but I sincerely mean it. Love reviews. Looove them.)

**mysticXesperanza** -- No, this really is Part V. Part IV's unwritten. It's confusing, I know. I'm working up to Part IV. It's incredibly dark, as is Part VI. So, that's one big reason for the discontinuity right now.


	32. Chapter 29

**Chapter 29**

"Hey, Harry," Hermione hissed, poking him in the back.

"What?" he asked without turning around.

"Do you know where Isabelle is? Class is about to begin any minute now."

"Is that concern in your voice, cousin dear?"

"Of course it is, you stupid git. So, do you know where she is, or not?"

"Yup."

Hermione sat quietly for a minute, drumming her fingers on her desk. When Harry didn't say anything, she sharply jabbed him in the neck.

"Ouch!" he exclaimed. "What do you want?"

"To know where Isabelle is," she snapped.

Harry turned around. "She and Sirius aren't on speaking terms. So, he's teaching the first half of the seminar class by himself. During the break, she'll show up to teach the second half of class, and he's going to leave."

"That's so childish." She wrinkled her nose. "What do you think they're fighting over?"

"Easter holidays," he said simply. Hermione's eyes lit up, and she leaned forward.

"Do you know what happened?" she asked eagerly.

Before he could answer her, Sirius began class. Disappointed, Hermione sat back, giving Harry a look that clearly said that the conversation wasn't over. He rolled his eyes at her and turned around to pay attention.

"Good evening, everyone," Sirius said, pausing for the students to finish their various conversations. "Well, let's get going. Tonight, we – yes, Fred?"

"Uh, where's Professor Evans?" he asked. Harry studied Sirius carefully as he thought of a response.

"Preparing her O.W.L. and N.E.W.T. examinations. She'll be here at the break. Anyway, she's spent the entire year teaching all of you how to use wandless magic. And, the number one thing both of us have tried to drill into your heads is to never, _ever_ use wandless magic unless it's a life or death situation.

But, if any of you encounter Death Eaters, and chances are pretty good that you will, the first thing that they will try to do is disarm you. Usually they attack in groups; it's very rare that you'll fight one on one. So, you could very well find yourself disarmed in the center of a circle of Death Eaters."

"Lovely," Padma muttered under her breath.

"What's the big deal?" Katie asked. "We just fight them wandless. Desperate times, right?"

"The big deal is that the next time you encounter a Death Eater, they'll be more likely to hit you with an Unforgivable Curse first thing. If they don't know that you can fight wandless, then they'll toy with you a bit. They like to do that cat and mouse game; it makes them feel superior," Harry answered from personal experience.

"And that extra time could make the difference between life and death," Isabelle said, walking into the room.

Every student's face lit up with a smile as the popular professor closed the door behind her and stood beside Sirius. Even though his face didn't change expression, Harry noticed that his mood changed immediately. He _was_ glad to have Isabelle around.

"Sorry that I'm late," she apologized, looking only at Sirius.

"I thought--" he began.

"It's a woman's prerogative to change her mind," she said lightly. "Where were you?"

"About to get to the point of tonight's lesson," he said quietly. "But, you've done this before, so would you like to explain it to the class?"

"Nah. You're the Transfiguration expert. I'll stick to Dark Magic." She winked at him, and he couldn't help smiling back before continuing class.

"What you're going to learn tonight is to Transfigure an object – any object – into a fake wand. Now, physically creating the wand is the easy part. Just about anyone can do that. The difficulty is in making a realistic fake wand; one that shoots different colored light out of it, water, that sort of thing. Oh, and it must be able to perform the _Priori Incantatem_ effect."

"That's impossible," Neville said, crossing his arms.

"Is it now?" Sirius picked up a quill off the desk, and Transfigured it into a wand identical to his own. He gave it to Neville. "There, try it out."

"Ok," he said slowly. "What was that one Professor Lupin used third year when he shot gum into Peeves' nose?"

"Waddiwasi," Ron replied, snickering at the memory.

Neville pointed the wand towards the door. "Waddiwasi."

An enormous wad of gum shot out of the tip of the fake wand, and hit the door with a loud splat. Amazed, the class stared wide-eyed at Sirius.

"Thanks for the demonstration, Neville," he said, taking the wand and Transfiguring it back into a quill. "These fake wands are identical to the wands that you'll buy at Ollivander's, except for one thing. The cores aren't real. So, the core might look like a real unicorn hair, but it won't have its power. It truly is a cheap imitation of the real thing. But, fake wands are a useful way to disguise wandless magic."

Harry looked at Sirius, completely amazed that he could teach class when all he was thinking about was Isabelle. The depth of his feelings for her also surprised Harry; he truly loved her. But, he honestly believed that she ran around with other men, which shattered his heart nearly beyond repair.

What Harry didn't understand is _why_ he would think that. Anyone with a set of eyes saw that Isabelle practically worshipped the ground Sirius walked on. And he stomped on her affections cruelly and didn't have a problem rubbing her nose in it constantly.

So, he didn't blame his aunt for not telling him about the baby yet. She was justified in waiting for an apology from Sirius first. In fact, Harry would be quite upset if she just threw herself at him after everything that he's done.

A broken heart isn't an excuse for calling my Aunt Isabelle every name in the book, he thought, frowning.

He shook himself out of his thoughts and joined the rest of the class in attempting to Transfigure their quills into fake wands. Naturally, Hermione was the first student to perfect her fake wand, so she walked over to pump Harry for information. He rolled his eyes as she grinned at him wickedly.

"Well?" she asked.

"Well, what?" he replied innocently.

"Oh, come on Harry. Did they or not?" she huffed.

He looked at Isabelle, who was looking at Hermione through narrowed eyes. "What does it matter to you?"

"It matters. So, what do you know?"

That you're going to have a sibling in about eight months or so, he thought with a small smile. It suddenly occurred to him that his new cousin would be one of his other cousin's siblings. Which was incredibly weird, at the very least.

"Harry, you're being an insufferable prat." Hermione gave him an evil look.

"All I know is that if they were together over Easter holidays, they're certainly not now," he said neutrally.

"It was probably a stupid fight, too." She sighed, looking at Ron wistfully. "Sometimes, no matter how much you care about someone, it just doesn't seem to work out. So, what are we going to do about it?"

"About what?"

"Ok, do you really want to watch my dear father and Isabelle give each other those lovesick looks for the rest of our natural lives? We need to get them to talk about whatever they fought about."

"How? They won't stay in the same room, except to teach," Harry pointed out. Hermione gave him another wicked smile.

"I just so happen to have a plan," she said, remarkably sounding a lot like Isabelle.

"Do I want to know what this plan is?"

"It's really quite simple. You see, I have a birthday coming up. All I have to do is make a big deal about how this is my first birthday that the family's been together again, blah, blah. I know Isabelle; she'll melt. She always does. So will Papa; he's such a softie. They'll put on their happy faces and play nice all day. If we play up the big, happy family angle, maybe they'll kiss and make up."

"You know, this just might work," Harry said, mirroring her evil grin.

"Knew you'd agree. Wish me luck." She turned on her heel, and walked to the front of the classroom to talk to Isabelle.

"What's all that about?" Ginny whispered, nodding her head in Hermione's direction.

"She's making birthday plans," he answered honestly.

"Uh-huh. You're a bad liar, Harry Potter."

"I'm not lying," he protested. "I'm just not telling the whole truth. And, honestly I'd tell you if I thought that I could."

She rolled her eyes. "One of those mysterious family things, huh?"

"Sorry." He shrugged apologetically. Before he could say anything else, Hermione bounded up to them happily.

"They so bought it," she said, incredibly impressed with herself.

"Bought what?" Ginny asked innocently.

Harry gave her a dirty look. "Nothing, love. I told you that before."

"You're playing matchmaker, aren't you?" She narrowed her eyes.

"Hmm?" the cousins answered in unison.

"So, what's the plan?" Ginny pressed.

"I give up." Harry threw up his hands. "We suspect that they got together over the holidays and broke up, so we're trying to get them back together."

"Oh, I knew that already," she scoffed.

"Knew what?" Hermione wanted to know.

"That they hooked up," Ginny said sassily. "And, maybe I would've shared that information with either of you before now if you ever included me in your little 'plans'."

She huffed off to talk to her brothers, leaving both Harry and Hermione starting at her, shocked.

"She sure told us," he whistled. "What a woman."

Hermione looked at him, and they both started laughing. "What is it with us and Weasleys? Why do we find them so irresistible?"

"We like the abuse."

"Isn't that the truth?"

"Ok folks, break's over," Isabelle shouted over the din. "Tonight's lesson is on an area of magic that few witches or wizards use, mostly because it's difficult to learn and has little practical value outside of a battle situation."

She walked to the back of the classroom, facing the door. All eyes focused on her as she held out her index finger, and pointed to the desk. Suddenly, the desk burst into flame. The class tried not to laugh as Sirius jumped off the desk and extinguished his robes.

"No, we're not going to learn how to catch your professor on fire. But, I will teach y'all how to incant spells mentally, without having to say a word. If y'all can master the skill, it'll make you a much quicker dueler."

"How?" Lee Jordan asked.

"Are you game, Sirius?" she asked in Russian, remembering in the nick of time that Hermione speaks Gaelic. He snorted.

"I'm not interested in embarrassing you in front of your family," he replied evenly.

Harry's eyes darted back and forth between them. His jaw nearly hit the floor when Isabelle put her hand on her hip and gave him a sexy smile. What was she trying to do?

"Since when do you back down from an opportunity to show off your skills?"

Her voice was pure silk. She gave him a sultry pout, hoping it would have its intended effect. If Sergei did attack her, she would be forced to duel someone whose mind she couldn't read, something she had never done before. So, she needed practice badly. And, who better to practice on than Sirius, the only other man whose thoughts she couldn't read?

Sirius raised his eyebrows at Isabelle's challenge. When he was a student at Hogwarts, he was by far the best dueler in the entire school. Which was a talent he honed during all of his years at the Ministry. Sure, he might have lost a bit of his edge over the years, but he still considered himself an excellent dueler.

"Since never." He flashed her a rakish grin, momentarily forgetting that the students were watching their every move. "Bring it on."

"Oh, I will, trust me." She turned to the class. "Professor Black has kindly agreed to help me in a little demonstration of the advantages to mental incantation of spells."

"I don't think this is a good idea, Aunt Isabelle," Harry said, worrying about the baby. She put her hand on his shoulder.

"It'll be alright. I have my reasons for doing this," she said so that only he could hear. She looked at him reassuringly.

"The usual rules?" Sirius asked.

"Sounds good to me."

The students looked at each other, completely speechless. None of them had seen an actual duel before. The whole room was charged with a nearly tangible energy, especially as both adults removed their outer robes to allow for more freedom of movement.

Now that Harry was beginning to utilize his Discerner skills, he wanted to punch every guy in the room. All of them, Sirius included, were thinking incredibly improper thoughts about his aunt. And, it wasn't as though she was wearing a revealing or otherwise inappropriate outfit, just a simple peach sleeveless sweater and a pair of bootcut khaki pants.

It was little consolation that all of the girls, except Hermione of course, were drooling over Sirius. Especially Aunt Isabelle, he thought, reminding himself to tease her about it later. Apparently she found the tight black t-shirt irresistible. As did Ginny, he realized with a frown.

Isabelle moved the still-smoldering teacher's desk to the far corner of the room. "Ok, I'd appreciate it if y'all moved yourselves and your desks against the walls, for safety reasons."

Excited, the students jumped up and complied quickly. Sirius and Isabelle walked around each other in a wide circle, then stopped and drew their wands. Simultaneously, they pitched them neatly on the teacher's desk, and quietly sized the other person up for a minute. All of a sudden, the room exploded with blinding light.

Before the bright ball hit Isabelle, she jumped up and did a back flip midair, landing gracefully. The students gasped as they threw hexes and curses at each other with breathtaking speed and accuracy. Harry could barely keep track of where they were, let alone what spells they were using.

"Have the other duels that you've seen looked like this?" Hermione whispered. He shook his head no emphatically.

"I've never seen anything like this," he replied.

"Tired old man, or are you thirsty for more?" Isabelle taunted Sirius in Russian.

"I'm still waiting for you to 'bring it on', dear," he fired back.

The students watched in amazement as the duel became even more intense. Although he teased her about her dueling abilities, Sirius was genuinely impressed at how well Isabelle fought. She was a worthy adversary, he decided.

After a few more minutes, Harry couldn't take it any longer. He couldn't let his aunt jeopardize her or the baby's health simply because she had too much pride to end the duel first. So, he diplomatically reminded them of the time, hoping they would take the hint and stop fighting, which they did.

"I hope that effectively illustrated my point," Isabelle said, trying to catch her breath. "For the remainder of the period, please practice mental incantation. Which means that I shouldn't hear any talking."

The class grumbled because they wanted to discuss the duel amongst themselves. But, they settled down and dutifully worked on the lesson for the remainder of the period. The only sounds came from Isabelle and Sirius, who were quietly engaged in conversation, much to Harry and Hermione's delight.

-----

Hermione quietly knocked on Isabelle's bedroom door, note in hand. Earlier that morning, Saskia woke her up with a message from Isabelle to come over to the house before breakfast. Curious, she threw on her robes quickly and raced over to the faculty grounds. 

"Come in," Isabelle called, smiling when she saw the teenage girl. "Happy sixteenth birthday."

"Thanks," she replied somewhat shyly, hovering in the doorway. Isabelle patted the bed next to her.

"Come here. I wanted to talk to you before class."

Yawning, Sirius stumbled into the bathroom and heard Isabelle talking. Thinking that she had finally lost her mind, he peered into her bedroom and saw Hermione with her. He couldn't resist eavesdropping on them, so he crept to the door and listened intently.

"One day, when I was a little girl, I went over Mummy P's house after my dance classes. And, Lily wouldn't let me do something that morning, I can't quite remember what, so I was furious with her. Mummy P asked me what was the matter, and I told her. Then, I asked her why do we have families, anyway, since all mine seems to do is boss me around and make me mad. Do you know what she told me?"

Hermione shook her head no. She smiled nostalgically.

"She said that families do two very important things. They give us roots so that we don't blow away when the storms come, and wings so that when the time comes, we can fly away to find our place in this world." She wiped away a tear quickly. "I promised myself that I'd get through this without crying, so let's see if I can make it."

Isabelle took a calming breath. "Well, it seems that this family gave you wings early. We're all so proud of you and the woman that you're growing up into. Now, it's time we gave you roots. There's something that I want you to have."

Sirius watched in total shock as Isabelle reached up and fumbled with the clasp of her necklace. "I've never taken this off before, so let's hope that the clasp hasn't fused together over time."

"You're giving me your _necklace_?" Hermione sounded as surprised as Sirius felt. Isabelle nodded and held it in the palm of her hand.

"As you know, your father and I were very close when I was growing up. We're kindred spirits, he and I," she said with a sheepish grin, "so we kind of adopted each other. This necklace was his present to me on my sixteenth birthday."

"Wow," she said, nearly speechless.

"Although I had family, being an orphan when you're young is very alienating. You know how that feels, I'm sure. Even though Lily tried to understand where I was coming from, our parents were still alive when she was little. Sirius was the only person who knew how much I just wanted to belong somewhere, because he was more or less an orphan his whole life, too."

Isabelle pointed to the round, oval pendant. "This stone is blue lapis lazuli, the Black family gemstone. All of the old wizarding families have a certain gemstone that they use for certain occasions. Traditionally, only family members are allowed to wear their particular stone. So, this necklace basically states to the world that I'm a part of the Black family. That's why Sirius gave it to me – as a tangible reminder that I'll always have a place in his family."

"Um, why blue lapis? It's not exactly a precious stone," Hermione interrupted quietly.

"Because way back in the days of the Roman empire, your family lived in Egypt. When the Emperor Constantine decided to unify the empire through religion, most of the ruling families rejected Christianity. But, your family backed the Emperor. As a reward, Constantine gave most of Scotland to them as a reward. They moved to the British Isles as the lesion between the pagan, for lack of a better term, wizarding world, and the Christian Roman Empire.

Eventually Rome fell, but your family had been in Britain for so long that they decided to permanently settle here. They adopted some of the local customs, such as family gemstones. So that their Egyptian roots were never forgotten, your ancestors picked blue lapis as their stone."

"That's why my family's Roman Catholic," Hermione realized.

"Well, half of your family, anyway. But, that's another story for another day," she said with a small laugh. She pointed to the stone again. "This particular pendant is unique because of the starburst pattern in the middle of it, see?"

She nodded. "What does it stand for?"

"According to Abuela, the family obsession with stars began with your grandmother Juliana. She grew up during the Spanish Civil War, which was a very dark time for everyone, especially the wizarding community. So, she would sneak up to the roof of their house every night and wish on a star that the war would end."

"I thought my grandmother had polio and couldn't walk," Hermione frowned, confused.

"She contracted polio when she was seven years old, leaving her basically crippled. Abuela said that she could walk, just not very far. Even so, your grandmother Juliana would go outside every night and stare at the stars for hours on end. One night, Abuela's curiosity got the best of her, and she asked your grandmother why she went stargazing every night."

Sirius smiled, knowing what was next. He didn't know how many hundreds of times Abuela told him this story growing up.

"Your grandmother told her that the stars gave her comfort. She said that you could make a wish on a star, and then use the stars to chart the way to a place to make your dreams come true. But, if you ever got lost or lonely, the stars also show the way home. To your grandma Juliana, the stars showed exactly what Mummy P was talking about – roots and wings."

Isabelle smiled, and carefully put the necklace around Hermione's neck. "There. Now no matter where you go, you'll never forget where you came from."

"Thank you," she said in a choked voice.

In ten minutes, Isabelle reminded Sirius of every reason why he loved her so much. At that minute, it didn't seem to matter to him whether or not she had actually cheated on him. All that was important was that he needed her in his life. And, for the first time, he was willing to fight for her affections.

"Hermione," she said hesitantly, "things are going to be very different soon within our family. And, I wanted to tell you that no matter how things end up, I love you very much. I'd never hurt you intentionally, ok?"

"Ok," she answered slowly.

Isabelle grinned, hoping that everything would turn out well. "Onto other important topics. What do you want for dinner?"

As they discussed the dinner menu, Sirius puzzled over Isabelle's words and what they could possibly mean. If she was hinting that she was involved with another man, Sirius determined to make her forget that whomever it was existed. He vowed to win her back by any means necessary.

-----

Weary from a day with incredibly hyper teenagers, Sirius walked in the front door, hoping for at least a couple of minutes of peace and quiet. The seventh-year Transfiguration students, in a panic over the N.E.W.T. tests, gave him an enormous migraine headache. He flopped into a chair and put his feet up. 

Isabelle's voice wafted into the living room from where she was singing along with the WWN as she cooked dinner. In his effort to get on her good side, he didn't say a single word in protest when she insisted on cooking dinner instead of leaving it to Dobby.

He certainly wasn't much of a cook, but he figured that he could help her somehow. So, he ignored his throbbing head and headed to the kitchen. She was so involved in the simmering pans and the music that she didn't notice Sirius standing in the doorway. He watched her dance around the room in time with the beat, pausing as the song changed to a ballad.

"_Baby, tell me where'd you ever learn to fight without sayin' a word? Then waltz back into my life, like it's all gonna be alright. Don't you know how much it hurts?_" she sang softly and emotionally. Her voice increased in volume dramatically.

"_When we don't talk, when we don't touch. When it doesn't feel like we're even in love. It matters to me. When I don't know what to say, don't know what to do. Don't know if it really even matters to you. How can I make you see? It matters to me._"

It matters to me, too, he thought sadly.

"_Maybe I still don't understand the distance between a woman and a man. So tell me how far it is, and how you can love like this 'cause I'm not sure I can. When we don't talk, when we don't touch. When it doesn't feel like_—oh!" She froze, staring at Sirius. "Hi."

"Hey. Um, do you need some help in here?" he asked hopefully.

She gave him an incredulous look. "Sure. Stir the sauce, will you?"

"Isabelle, I uh, that is, I was wondering if we could talk."

"Talk away," she said, checking on the rich, delicious smelling dessert in the oven. "That just smells like heaven in a pan, doesn't it?"

"It sure does," he admitted, looking at the oven wistfully. Isabelle smiled, knowing that he has a wicked sweet tooth.

"Far be it from me to criticize free help, but you're stirring the sauce wrong. Try stirring it like this." She put her hand over his to demonstrate. "See?"

"I see," he said, not taking his eyes off hers.

"Good. Now get to work," she joked in a mock serious voice.

"Isabelle--" he began, trying to work up his nerve to apologize to her for being a ridiculous idiot.

"Yes?" She looked up.

Sirius smiled, losing his train of thought. Somehow, she managed to get a liberal dusting of flour on the tip of her nose, making her look incredibly cute. He grabbed a napkin off the bar, and wiped it off.

"You had flour on your nose," he explained.

"Thanks."

"No problem. Say, where'd you learn to cook, anyway?" he wondered.

"Oh, the kitchen and I have a long love/hate relationship," she answered cheerfully. "Don't let that spaghetti sauce burn."

"I'm not, I promise. Seriously though, you cook like a gourmet chef. I know you didn't learn that from Lily."

Isabelle snorted. "Certainly not. Lil's the only person I know who could burn water. Actually, cooking's not much different from mixing potions. Except that when you're done cooking, you get to eat what you've made. And, I'll have you know that it takes a lot of practice to learn to cook, just like anything else. I remember Sev—sorry."

"For what? I asked a question, so don't be sorry for telling me the answer. Keep going," he insisted.

"You really want to hear my sordid tale of woe?" She narrowed her eyes.

"Yeah, I do." And, he really meant it.

"Well, like I was saying, when Sev and I first moved to America, neither of us really knew what we were doing. I could cook a few dishes, but they got really old quickly. So, I began making up 'experiments'. Some were good and some tasted like Lil made them." She paused and bit her lip thoughtfully. "Actually, I learned almost everything I know from Phillip."

"Phillip?"

"Oh, yeah," she said, smiling at the memory. "He's an amazing cook. I mostly steered clear from the kitchen when we were together, though. Then, when Sergei and I started having serious problems, I hid in the kitchen so that he wouldn't find me. Ditto for Lucius. Heaven forbid that their 'little woman' lifts a finger, so they never looked for me there."

Sirius looked at the floor shamefully, knowing that he was guilty of the exact same elitist attitude. "Is that how you met Dobby?"

"Yep. I don't know how many nights I spent in the kitchens, just laughing and joking with the house elves. Guess I picked up a trick or two along the way." She winked at him. "I'm no domestic goddess, but I know my way around a kitchen."

"I never knew any of that," he said quietly.

"You never asked."

"Yeah, I have a tendency of jumping to conclusions, don't I?"

"You do. But, sometimes I keep too many secrets," she admitted.

Sirius turned around and gazed intently into her eyes. Before he realized what he was doing, he pulled her into a tight embrace and kissed her passionately.

"Isabelle--"

"Shhh," she whispered in between kisses. "Don't talk. You'll ruin this beautiful moment."

"But--"

"We can talk later. Much, much later…" her voice faded.

"How much later?"

"You're ruining the moment," she warned.

"Wouldn't want to do that."

At first, Isabelle felt incredibly guilty snogging him rotten in the middle of the kitchen, but she quickly got over it. After all, she needed to make all of the morning sickness, backaches and weird food cravings worth it. Or at least remind herself of how she got into that situation in the first place.

And he was quite good at jogging her memory. They became so involved with each other that neither one realized how much time had passed until they heard the front door close with a loud bang.

"Oh, shit!" Sirius hissed, instantly aware of their state of undress.

"Here," Isabelle whispered back, tossing him various articles of clothing that he threw on quickly. Somehow, they managed to be completely dressed by the time Harry and Hermione walked to the back of the house.

"Hi," Harry said, giving Hermione a _look_, hoping that she'd notice that Sirius' shirt was on inside out.

She did, and they both tried to keep a straight face while talking to Sirius and Isabelle. They escaped to the dining room the first chance that they could get, bursting into hysterical laughter as soon as they were out of earshot.

"Oh, we so busted them," Hermione said with a wicked grin. "I want to hear it."

"Fine, your plan worked," he admitted, matching her evil smile.

"Damn, I'm good."


	33. Chapter 30

**Chapter 30**

Sergei Remizov walked into the restroom and studied his reflection carefully. A truly evil grin spread over his face; he was the living image of Sirius Black.

Which has been quite useful all week, he thought, his grin widening.

When he returned to Lord Voldemort later this evening with the Potter boy, he would also have a wealth of information that the Dark Lord would find useful, to say the least. But first, he needed to dispose of his wife.

Isabelle has been a thorn in my side for far too long, he thought sourly.

He was quite grateful that Voldemort gave him permission to deal with her as he saw fit, much to Lucius Malfoy's protests. Sergei scowled, repulsed at the idea of his wife and that man having an affair under his own nose without him having a clue.

Malfoy will pay too, he consoled himself. As will that traitor Snape.

The clock in the Great Hall struck eleven o'clock a.m. One hour until the court published its ruling that the divorce was invalid and that the marriage stood. Sergei walked out of the bathroom, eager to put his plan into action.

Knowing that the real Sirius Black was nowhere near the castle, he confidently knocked on the door to Isabelle's office. Since it was partially open, he simply let himself inside.

"Hi," she said, smiling softly before returning to her stack of ungraded essays.

Despite how much he despised his wife, her incredible beauty always struck him every time he saw her. Sergei narrowed his eyes, deciding to have a little fun with Isabelle before he killed her. A little revenge for every time she double-crossed him throughout the years.

He walked to the desk, and stood behind her, pretending to be interested in the useless Muggle junk she was reading. "Working on a Saturday?"

"Always do," she replied cheerfully.

"You know what they say about all work and no play," Sergei said suggestively. As an added touch, he began kissing her neck gently.

Isabelle puzzled over Sirius' behavior, which seemed quite erratic over the past few days. But, considering that everything was a little crazy all week with Hermione's birthday and all, she shrugged off his actions. Besides, he really seemed to be making an effort to fix things between them.

"What are you trying to say?" she wondered.

"That maybe we should go back to the house and enjoy the weekend," he answered softly.

Now she was truly confused. Today was Regina's deathday – was he really suggesting what she _thought_ he was suggesting? And, if so, does he really want to be with me, or is he just trying to distract himself from her memory? she thought, biting her lip.

Sensing her hesitation, Sergei turned on the charm. He knew Isabelle couldn't resist the 'Black' charm for a minute. Which also irritated him to no undying end.

"What I meant," he smiled disarmingly, "was that maybe we could have lunch and then take things from there. You know, have that conversation that we've been putting off."

"Sure, sounds great."

Isabelle stood up, and followed 'Sirius' into the hallway. Sergei smiled internally; everything was going right according to plan. According to the clock, he had twenty-five minutes before noon. And, he knew just how he wanted to spend them.

-----

Hermione peeked out from under her Potions outline at Viktor, who was dutifully writing out next week's lesson plans for the first-years. Frustrated, she leaned her head against the headboard of her bed. The main reason she suggested that they work at her father's house was so that she would have a quiet place to break up with him. 

I'm such a wimp, she told herself crossly. Just do it.

But, she really didn't want to hurt him, even thought it was unavoidable. He was a great guy, probably better suited for her than Ron, actually. However, she despite her best efforts to the contrary, she fell for Ron, not Viktor.

And, the heart's desires are simply unexplainable, especially to a confused sixteen-year-old girl. Right when she opened her mouth to speak, she heard the front door open and slam shut.

She gulped, knowing how much trouble she was in if she was caught in her bedroom with Viktor. Neither Isabelle nor Sirius was thrilled with her fling with Ron over Christmas holidays, and they'd be even less happy that she used their home to shack up with guys when they weren't there.

Hypocrites, she thought sourly. And, that's how they'd see it, too. Never mind that all we're doing is studying. Just because they used to hook up whenever, wherever, with whomever they wanted to doesn't mean that I'm following in their illustrious footsteps.

Not to mention that if they caught _Harry_ in the same exact situation, they'd give him the benefit of the doubt, she grumbled internally. Because he's Harry _Perfect_ Potter, and I'm the resident wild child of this generation. Yeah, I'm so wild, too. Just call me Isabelle, junior.

"Hey, Viktor?" she whispered. "I'm going to go see who that is, ok?"

"Sure." He smiled so sweetly that she felt horribly guilty for wanting to dump him.

Hermione crept down the hallway, and inched down the staircase. Two angry voices suddenly echoed through the entire first floor. Curious, she sat down on the stairs to eavesdrop on what sounded like her father arguing with Isabelle for the forty-millionth time.

"What kind of idiot do you take me for, Sergei?" Isabelle said in a harsh tone of voice that actually scared Hermione.

And, what's going on here? she wondered.

"I don't know what you're talking about," he said innocently.

"Fine." Hermione peeked around the corner, and watched Isabelle grab a back of gummi worms out of a drawer. "Want one?"

When the man who claimed to be Sirius Black didn't flinch, both women knew instantly that he was a phony. However, Hermione had no clue why she knew that Sirius hated anything gummi with a passion. She puzzled while Isabelle popped a gummi worm in her mouth and drew her wand threateningly.

"It's been a long time, Sergei. To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?" she spat. "Oh, wait – silly me. The court decision comes out in what, fifteen minutes? Is that how long I have to live?"

"Or until I'm finished with you. Whichever takes longer," he said with an evil grin that made Hermione sick.

Before Isabelle could react, he kicked her legs out from underneath her. As she fell, he grabbed her wand, broke it in half, and threw the pieces into the fire. He pinned her on the floor, laughing spitefully.

"I have missed you, love," he said cruelly, tracing the curve of her face with his index finger. His face contorted in pure fury, and he slapped her face with incredible force.

"Yes, everyone needs their very own punching bag," she replied evenly, spitting on him.

"Too bad I didn't realize your value when I had you," he mused. "The baby sister of the woman who brought down the Dark Lord. How did it feel to dine with the man who murdered your sister and brother-in-law, forced you into hiding, and sent the great love of your life to Azkaban? Oh, I'll get to Black in a minute. First, answer my question, bitch."

He put his hands around her throat and shook her for a minute.

"Go to hell."

He laughed, obviously pleased with her answer. "Oh, I will. Right after you, love. And that brat of a nephew of yours, along with his darling cousin. My Lord is looking forward to finishing off the Potter line this evening. So, rest assured that you'll have more company in your eternal resting place."

"Over my dead body."

"That's the idea. You are a slow one today, aren't you?"

Hermione gulped, petrified. She didn't know whether to go help Isabelle or not, since she was a target of this attack, too. The last thing she wanted to do was to get them all killed, so she stayed put for the time being.

"Say hi to our daughter when you reach the great beyond, Isabelle," he hissed. She laughed mirthlessly.

"Kate's not yours."

What did she just say? Hermione gasped, leaning closer so that she could hear more clearly.

"You little--" he fumed, trying to pin her to the floor tighter. In the scuffle, Isabelle managed to break free of him and put several feet between them.

"Oh, yes, Sergei. Every day – every single bloody day – as soon as you left for the office--"

"Malfoy's going to pay for--" he interrupted.

"For what? Being twice the man you are? In _every_ way imaginable," she said suggestively. "How does it feel to know that you played second best to Lucius Malfoy, of all people?"

Hermione froze to the stair. Did Isabelle just say that she had an _affair_ and a _baby_ with Lucius Malfoy? she thought, stunned beyond belief.

"How does it feel to know that you play second best to a dead woman?" he fired back, smiling at the pained look on her face. "Aww, truth hurts, doesn't it?"

"Sod off," she screamed.

Sergei laughed evilly. "Poor, poor Isabelle. You lived your whole bloody life hoping to get Sirius Black to notice you. And, what happened as soon as he had you? He tossed you, and that cursed spawn of yours aside like yesterday's trash."

"Enough!"

Concerned, Viktor walked into the hallway, looking for Hermione. He spotted her cowering on the staircase, trembling like a leaf while listening to the argument downstairs. Right as he reached her, the stair squeaked loudly, giving both of them away. Sergei instantly bounded to the front hall and looked at the teenagers.

"I didn't know we had an audience, love. Please, come downstairs and join us. I insist," he said with a wild look on his face.

"Oh, my Lord," Isabelle whispered as they trudged into the room.

"You must be the Black child. Looks remarkably like her mother, doesn't she darling?" he asked cheerfully.

"Yes," she answered through clenched teeth.

"Give her my regards." Sergei pointed his wand towards Hermione. _"__Avada Kedavra."_

Isabelle watched in horror as a jet of green light shot from his wand, traveling towards Hermione in what seemed like slow motion. Viktor pushed her out of the way the instant before the lethal beam hit her. He was dead before he hit the floor.

As his body hit the ground with a thud, the clock chimed noon. In one quick, smooth motion, Isabelle pulled up Hermione, plucked her wand from her robes, and threw her towards the door.

_"__Cruc--"_ Sergei yelled at the teenager.

_"__Declino Crucio!"_ Isabelle interrupted, sending the spell into a beautiful antique vase, which exploded into shards.

Not my stargazer lilies, she thought ruefully. It's time to get ugly. She looked at Hermione who stood looking at the scene, petrified from fear.

_"__Contego!"_ Isabelle screamed, covering her with a temporary shield charm. "Gracie, run! Now!"

"But…" Hermione protested, looking at her like she had never seen her before. Suddenly, everything made sense to her. Their eyes met, and Isabelle gasped.

She remembers me, Isabelle thought, tearing up a bit. "Go! _Now!_"

Somehow, Hermione found her feet, and ran out of the house and into the faculty grounds. When she turned around, the house shook with a deafening roar. She took off for the main castle to get help, trying to tune out the explosions and bright flashes of light shooting through the air.

-----

Rubbing his temples wearily, Sirius opened the gate to the Potter plot at the cemetery. The ground muffled his footsteps as he crossed the rows of headstones, stopping in front of his wife's grave. He quietly knelt and laid a bouquet of daisies on the ground. 

"Hello, Regina," he said softly. "Well, it's been sixteen years since you've left us. It really doesn't seem like it's been that long. But, in other ways – it seems like those days were a lifetime ago. So much has changed between now and then."

"Starting with our daughter. Looks you won the war, because she goes by Hermione now. I bet you're getting a big kick out of that one, aren't you? Teaches me not to try to outsmart you. Were you a Seer or something, and just never told me? I wouldn't put it past you."

"Anyway, she's a great kid, no thanks to me. You'd be really proud of her. Well, except for the fact that she'll probably make Head Girl. In which case, you'd probably want to disown her. She still has another year to become a slacker like us, so there's hope. She _is_ a Prefect, though." He shrugged, clearly puzzled.

"I don't get it, either. She certainly didn't get that from either one of us. But, she's definitely an individual, and has been from day one. Maybe she gets the do-gooder thing from James or something. Luckily, she does have a wild streak. Not quite as free spirited as you were, but hey, Muggle dentists raised her. I'm telling you, if Isabelle and I hadn't gotten to her in time, she'd be boring as hell. Worse than your father even, and we both know that's pretty damn boring."

He paused, gathering his thoughts. "I went to the old house in Dover this morning, just to walk around and think about things. I stood in our old room forever, it seemed, thinking about us and the way things turned out. Sometimes, I still wonder what would've happened if you hadn't died. Even if I did still end up going to prison, Gracie still would've had you. Which is infinitely better than Muggle dentists."

"You'd have been a great mum. I'm sure of it," he said, completely choked up. "I wish that Grace – er, Hermione – I know that, love, could've known you. Isabelle does do a good job of talking about you, and trying to make us a family."

He smiled sheepishly. "You were right about me and Isabelle, too. She did grow up, even though I tried to deny it for the longest time. And, I'll always love you, but, honestly, I love her, too. Things have changed a lot since we were married, and I'm a completely different man now. I don't know whether that's a good thing or not, but it can't be helped."

"I know exactly what _you're_," he pointed to James' headstone, "thinking. That I'm saying that I'm in love with little Isabelle, who used to play in mud puddles and climb trees. And, I'll have you know that she still plays in mud puddles and climbs trees. Except now, she's got a body to die for and that mud looks sexy as—ouch!"

He rubbed his head gingerly, where a knot was quickly forming. A large tree branch lay on the ground from where it smacked his head a minute ago. Irritated, he picked it up and chucked it across the plot.

"Look, mate. Have you seen her lately? All I'm saying is that it's _nice_ when she makes mud pies with Abbie, ok? Seriously, man-to-man, I love her." Another branch tumbled to the ground, landing at his feet. "I get the point. I know that I, of all people, certainly don't deserve her. Especially after everything that I've done to her."

"She's so sweet, and generous, and smart, and funny, and – well, I could go on all day. Pathetic, isn't it? Even though her life has basically sucked, she's always optimistic. And, it's my fault that her life turned out the way that it did. If I had never left all those years ago, maybe she wouldn't have been shipped to America."

"Then, she wouldn't have married that abusive git," he said, wanting to punch something repeatedly. "Can you believe that anybody could ever hurt Isabelle like that? Wife-beaters deserve a special place in hell."

"It's completely my fault that she married him. I was so naïve, and thought that maybe all of the love she got from us, and the therapy, would make up for the abuse somehow. Even Snape put her in therapy, which is one of the few good decisions that he's ever made. But, it didn't make a bloody bit of difference because she married an abusive git just like her daddy."

"At least she had the sense to leave him. But, to make an extremely long story short, she got mixed up with me over Easter holidays." He looked overhead before continuing. "Turns out she's kind of fancied me since, uh, forever. And, I'm crazy about her, so we, um, you get the idea."

"I swear, Lil, that I had the best intentions with your sister. I still do. All I want to do is marry her and devote the rest of my life to making her happy. But, just when things were really going well, I completely panicked. I saw her give an old boyfriend a hug, and went off the deep end. I mean, I went completely psycho. If any guy ever spoke to my daughter that way, he'd be occupying a spot in this cemetery. Even if what I said was true, I had no place saying any of it. Just the idea of her running around on me broke my heart, and I wanted to hurt her to feel as bad as I did."

"But, it didn't really work because I ended up feeling worse than she ever could. Whenever I'd see her walking around the castle on the verge of tears because I happened to be around, it was like someone was stabbing me over and over again. Worse than that, I miss her like crazy."

"I don't trust myself around her though. What if we got back together, and I hurt her again? I have a tendency of saying really stupid things that I wish that I could take back. Isabelle deserves so much better than that. She deserves so much more than I have to offer. What am I? An emotionally repressed, bordering on middle-aged wizard with the most notorious reputation around. Well, except for Voldie."

"Plus, I lose everyone I love. I swear that I must be cursed or something. Look at all of you; I loved all of you more than my own life, and you're all dead. My daughter got sent to the Muggle dentists, and Harry to idiotic Petunia. My Isabelle spent her teenage years with Snape, and they're close to this day. That's bloody insulting."

"I'm scared. I'm really scared that I'll lose her again. I buried her once; I don't think I could do it again. So, maybe if I just don't get too close to her, she won't die. Yeah, I know that sounds stupid, but I'm paranoid."

"I want to do what's best for her, and I don't know what that is. Part of me wants to hold her and never let her go. But, the other part of me knows that I'm nowhere near good enough for her, and thinks that I should just leave her alone. What I need is a sign. And, I'm a little dense when it comes to the obvious, so it should be a really big sign. Preferably with neon."

Sirius opened his mouth to speak, and closed it abruptly as a thunderous boom rumbled through the air. He turned in the direction of the blast, temporarily blinded by a bright green flash of light. As his eyesight returned, he heard a desperate scream pierce the air.

"Papa! Are you here?" Hermione wailed, wrenching the gate open and running through the plot, hurtling herself into his arms. "I've looked for you _everywhere_. I should've guessed that you'd be here. You have to come quick. He's fighting Isabelle a-and h-he kil-killed--"

"Whoa. If you want me to help you, you're going to have to slow down," he said in a calming voice, leading her to a bench.

All of his Ministry training kicked in, forcing him to be rational and get the details from Hermione first so that he knew what he was dealing with. She took a deep breath, and bit her lip to keep from crying.

"He attacked me, but Viktor pushed me out of the way. I think he'd dead." Her eyes spilled over. "And Isabelle told me to run, so I did. They're fighting."

"Who is Isabelle fighting?"

"Sergei Remizov."

"Shit. Did that blast come from our house?" he asked carefully, trying not to upset Hermione. She nodded, crying harder.

"Hey," he said reassuringly, "Isabelle's a strong witch, and she has a lot of dueling experience. More than I probably want to know about, even. She's also tough as hell. I think she's indestructible."

She smiled briefly through her tears. "I know."

"I need for you to do something for me? Can you do that?"

"Yeah," she answered in a small voice.

"Do you know where Harry is?"

"With Ron at Phillip's office. They're going over strategies for the Quiddich match next week."

"Good. I need you to go find Harry, and tell him what happened. Then, I need for you to send Phillip and Bill to the house right away. You and Harry are to stay with the kids at Phillip's flat until someone comes to get you. No sneaking out to do hero stuff." He said the last part as sternly as he could.

"Yes, sir," she said, glassy-eyed.

Sirius watched Hermione run off towards Hogsmeade before rushing off in the opposite direction. There was a shortcut to the faculty grounds through the cemetery that few people knew about. Obviously Remizov did; otherwise, how could he have gotten on grounds?

As he ran, he fervently hoped that the children would take his warning seriously. By the look on Hermione's face, he figured that she could at least stall Harry long enough for the adults to secure the situation first. He knew that they always had the best intentions at heart, but they were still children and didn't realize that their youth was a weakness in itself.

Although, he reminded himself, Hermione's the same age Isabelle was when I went to prison. And, she held her own just fine. But, Isabelle's cut out of a different mold than the rest of us are. She's scrappy, and a survivor.

He repeated his last thought over and over, especially as the house came into view. Or rather, the remains of what used to be a beautiful brick Georgian-style house. The roof was completely caved in, threatening to flatten the house any minute. Bricks had been thrown as far as the cemetery gate; no glass remained in any window.

A wave of panic overtook him as the memory of searching another decimated house entered his mind. He put his hands on his knees and took several deep breaths to calm down. It was difficult enough to face the present situation without being haunted by the painful experience of digging through his best friend's ransacked house, only to find he and Lily dead.

Loud footsteps echoed through the lane. He looked up, never so grateful to see Severus Snape in his entire life. Much as he hated the fact, Snape had just as much business here as he did.

And, Isabelle needed all the help that she could get at this point. It was fairly clear that the duel was long over, and this would be primarily a search and recovery mission. Time was of the essence, and the more people to help, the better.

Right when Snape reached Sirius and began to talk, the house collapsed with a deafening roar. Both men watched in horror as the outer walls of the building imploded, shooting timbers, bricks and dust everywhere. What was a sprawling, two-story home now stood ten feet tall, at the most.

"Shit!" they screamed simultaneously, racing for what was the front door. They scrambled to the top of the incredibly unstable heap of rubble, looking around furtively for any clue to Isabelle's whereabouts.

"That's where the living room was," Sirius pointed, attempting to be calm. "Let's start there."

Severus nodded curtly, and the two men began levitating and discarding the remains of the top floor. After a few minutes, the battered living room furniture became visible. They jumped into the crater that they created, and started carefully sifting through the room.

By the ruins of the staircase, Sirius spied a hand sticking out from under a pile of bricks. He quickly moved the bricks, revealing Viktor's body. A stab of guilt hit him, mostly because he never liked Krum very much, and was never thrilled that he was dating Hermione. And yet, because of his sacrifice, she lived.

"I found Krum," he choked out.

"And I found Remizov," Severus answered quietly. "What's left of him."

Sirius raced over to where Severus stood, and looked down at the man who tried to destroy his family. He fought the urge to become violently ill at the sight before him. Isabelle didn't just kill him; she made it so that Remizov was barely recognizable as a human being.

"I'd say he's dead," Sirius said gratefully, thankful that he could never hurt anyone again.

"Which means that Isabelle can't be far away," Severus said, mostly to himself.

They doubled their efforts, desperately hoping to find her alive. Sirius overturned the sofa to find a limp, lifeless Isabelle. His knees buckled, and he collapsed to the floor beside her in total grief and shock. Her lips and hands were a pale blue. His mind told him to check for a pulse, but his body wouldn't move, fearing confirmation of the worst.

Irate at Sirius' inertia, Severus stepped over him and gently took her wrist in his. No pulse. He closed his eyes to blink back tears, and checked the carotid artery in her neck with trembling fingers. To his immense relief, he felt a faint heartbeat. He bent over her head to try to listen to her breathing, but didn't hear anything. As he placed his hand over her diaphragm to make sure she _was_ breathing, he suddenly remembered the baby.

And, how much it destroyed Isabelle the last time that Remizov murdered her child. He looked at Sirius, full of rage at the man who supposedly loved her, created a child with her, but hasn't made a single move to help her. Or even asked to find out if she's alive or dead. Disgusted, Severus gingerly picked her up to carry her to the hospital wing.

"I won't let you lose your baby this time, Isabelle," he whispered softly in her ear, just loud enough for Sirius to hear.

Severus knew he had no clue that she was carrying his child, and wanted him to know exactly how much he had to lose if she died. And for her sake, he hoped that Sirius would care. He navigated up the mound of rubble, leaving a stunned Sirius behind.

Isabelle's _pregnant_? Sirius thought, completely in a daze. Why didn't she tell me? Because it's not yours, you git. She'd tell me if it was my baby, right? Why wouldn't she? She knows that I love children.

Heartbroken, he stood up to follow Severus to the hospital wing. As he reached the lane to the main castle, Phillip and Bill ran up to him, in a panic. He looked at the two men jealously. Either one of them could very well be the father of Isabelle's child, a privilege he would give nearly anything to have. Without a word to either man, he stomped off.


	34. Chapter 31

**Chapter 31**

"What's taking so bloody long?" Harry exclaimed, jumping up from the sofa.

He couldn't believe that Sirius actually thought that he'd stay away from the house when Isabelle was in danger. A knot formed in his stomach. How could he just wait here when a madman was attacking his pregnant aunt? He paced up and down the room, feeling like a caged beast.

"Phillip and Bill left just five minutes ago," Hermione pointed out quietly.

"I say we go after them," Stephen said angrily. "I'll kill him myself."

"Stephen!" Harry, Hermione and Ron exclaimed simultaneously.

"What? He killed my whole family! Mom, Dad, M.J. and Rose. And, Aunt Sarah Lindsay, Uncle Thomas and Carrie. Do you know what he used to do to Aunt Isabelle?" the little boy screamed.

The teenagers looked at each other wearily. Stephen was more than a little wound up, but they stayed quiet and let him vent.

"He beat her! He hit the nicest, most wonderful person ever. I want him to die. No, I want him to suffer first. I want him to hurt just like he hurt Aunt Isabelle."

"Well, I can't argue with you there," Harry muttered underneath his breath.

"Me, either," Ron agreed. Hermione burst into tears.

"I saw him h-hit her," she sobbed. "He threw her on the floor and ch-choked her, too. And, I didn't do anything! I just sat there and watched the whole thing. This is all my fault."

Harry rushed over to her and led her to the sofa. "Hermione, look at me. You didn't attack her. This isn't your fault. Aunt Isabelle's smart. Do you know what she was probably doing?"

"What?" she sniffled.

"Trying to give him a false sense of confidence so that he'd start bragging. If she looked weak, then he'd toy with her a bit and tell her some useful information. There was nothing you could've done to help her. Sergei Remizov is pure evil. The minute he saw you, he tried to kill you, remember?"

She nodded, beginning to sob again. "And Vi-Viktor died instead of me! It's all my fault he was there, anyway."

"And, it's my fault Cedric ended up in that cemetery last year," Harry said flatly, staring at the wall, trying to block unpleasant memories that threatened to overcome him.

"Why us? Why does Voldemort want to kill us?" Hermione wailed.

"I don't know. I just don't know," he replied.

Ron looked at his friend jealously, wishing he were the shoulder she was crying on. While he knew that Harry understood exactly what she was going through, he couldn't help feeling excluded. He set his jaw and decided to go to Phillip's study to do work. As he stood to leave, Hermione jumped up and ran into his arms.

"Please don't go," she begged. "I need you."

_I need you._ Those words echoed through this head over and over as he fought to keep from grinning like a little boy. He quietly held her as she cried, burying his head in her hair to hide how happy her simple words made him.

Ron didn't know how much time had passed until he heard the front door slam with a loud bang. To his dismay, Hermione instantly broke away from him and hurried towards the front hallway. Before she reached the doorway, Phillip and Bill stormed inside the room. Both men looked incredibly irate.

"What's going on?" Harry asked calmly, trying not to provoke either of them. "We're not completely sure," Bill answered through clenched teeth. "All we know is that Remizov and Krum are dead, and Isabelle's in a coma."

Hermione gasped loudly. "Can we go see her?"

"I don't see why not." Phillip huffed. "The person to ask is Sirius, and he's nowhere to be found. So yeah, I guess y'all are free to return to the castle." They didn't need to be told twice. Harry, Hermione and Ron bolted for the door, partially because they were eager to see Isabelle. And partially to get away from Phillip and Bill, who were still fuming.

By the time they reached the hospital wing, all three teenagers were completely out of breath and panting heavily. So, they paused to compose themselves before rounding the hallway to battle Madame Pomfrey, who surely was guarding Isabelle vigilantly.

"Excuse me?" a snide voice traveled down the corridor. "Just what do you think you're doing here?"

"I have just as much of a right to be here as you do, Snape. Move," a low voice growled.

"The last thing Isabelle needs right now is you. Every time she's ever been in danger you have failed her miserably. So why don't you take a leaf out of your own book and do something entirely self-fulfilling?"

"Wow, that's harsh," Ron whispered.

"Shhh!" Hermione hissed back. "Do you know what'll happen if we're caught here? Papa told me to stay at Phillip's until--"

"Oh, sod off, will you? It's a little obvious that Sirius forgot us, isn't it? So, if we get caught, we have a perfectly reasonable excuse – visiting Aunt Isabelle. And I wish those gits would move so I can do exactly that," Harry said angrily.

"Maybe we should just come back later," Hermione said in a small voice. Today had already been more than traumatic enough for her. Overhearing her father argue with Professor Snape wasn't exactly on her list of fun things to do with her evening. She began to quietly back down the corridor, when Ron grabbed one arm and Harry grabbed the other.

"Where do you think you're going?" Harry asked, astonished that she would pass up eavesdropping on the fight of the century.

"Nowhere, it seems," she answered gloomily.

"I'm weak?" they heard Snape scoff loudly.

"That's right," Sirius said calmly. "And a coward. Sneaking around, nosing in other people's business. Come to think of it, you've always been like that, haven't you?"

"And, you've always selfishly disregarded the consequences of your actions." "I wish that James hadn't saved you that night," he spat.

"Funny, he said the same thing. Regina thought differently."

"Don't you _ever_ say her name in front of me."

"I thought that you'd like to know how reckless and impulsive she thought you were. I'm sure you're wondering how I would know that, aren't you?"

"Yes, I am," he answered in a menacing tone. Hermione got a horrible feeling in the pit of her stomach. This was not good.

"Because she told me the next day. That's right, Black – Regina and I spent quite a bit of time together when we were students here."

"You're a bloody liar."

"Am I?" Severus seethed. "When you were out shagging your flavor of the week, Regina was with me. How does it feel to know that you got the sloppy seconds?"

Harry and Hermione both gasped, looking at each other in astonishment. They both wondered what Snape meant by that comment, and crept closer so that they could hear more clearly. It wasn't necessary.

The sound of Sirius punching him squarely in the jaw echoed throughout the corridor. Severus laughed wryly.

"Truth hurts, doesn't it? Regina wanted a man who hasn't been with every woman in existence. Things haven't changed a bit through the years," he mused. "You're so pathetic that you shagged Isabelle the first chance that you got. The only person you've ever raised, and you couldn't wait to jump in bed with her, could you?"

"My relationship with Isabelle is not your concern," he answered through clenched teeth.

"Actually, it has always been my concern. I should thank her, really. You abandoned Regina all those years ago to stay with her in Dover, and sent the supposed great love of your life to another continent, alone."

"I had no choice, and you know that. Isabelle needed me, and Regina understood that. You took advantage of the situation."

"Took advantage of what? It just kills you that she loved me first, doesn't it? In every sense of the word," he said suggestively, making Hermione's stomach churn. "I didn't have to trick her into marrying me, unlike some people."

"She left you." Sirius spoke slowly and clearly to drive in the point. "You stole her! You couldn't stand that fact that she actually married me, so you blackmailed us both. Poor, trusting Regina believed your pack of lies. I bet there was no arrest warrant, or any danger to her at all."

"There wouldn't have been if you had been a proper husband to her and kept her away from those druggie friends of yours."

_Husband?_ Hermione's mind whirled. Her mother was married to _Professor Snape?_ Why hadn't anyone mentioned this before? she wondered, feeling incredibly ill.

"A proper husband? I did everything I could to keep her away from those drugs. When she got sick, I sold my soul to evil itself to take care of her. You didn't have to watch her waste away in that hospital bed."

"You didn't hold her as she took her last breath."

"No, and what I would've given for that privilege, you selfish," he proceeded to swear a litany of curses that made all three teenagers blush profusely.

"_You_ killed her!" Sirius thundered. "_You_ introduced her to the drug scene. _You_ let her become an addict, and _you_ didn't take her to a doctor when she started acting sick. Why didn't you come to her parents when she was dying in a Muggle hospital bed? They would've moved heaven and earth for her, but no, you decided to take care of the problem yourself. Good job."

"At least I had the good sense not to start a family with a woman who had chronic heart disease. The doctors told her not to have children back in New York. That baby of yours killed her, not anything that I did."

"Don't you ever say that again," he said in a dangerously quiet tone. "Regina died of a staph infection; my daughter had nothing to do with it. If I had known that _my_ wife had heart trouble, maybe I would've done things differently. I never planned to be the single father of an extremely premature baby, but that's how it ended up. I don't regret having Gracie for a second. Children are a gift, Snape, and sometimes they come at a high price. That doesn't make them a mistake. You can't blame the sins of the mother on the child."

"How incredibly poetic of you," Severus said sarcastically.

"Thank you," he answered in an equally facetious voice. "You're so jealous of me that you can't see straight. You can't stand it that Regina chose to have a family with me. So, what did you do? You stole my whole damn family right from underneath my nose. I bet it was real fun all of those years, wasn't it? Did you have a good laugh when you dropped off my daughter with complete strangers? Or, when you took Isabelle away to America? Knowing all those years that I mourned their deaths, when they were very much alive? What about how you let me rot in Azkaban, when you knew I was innocent!"

"Innocent? Nothing you have ever done is innocent. Why would I believe the story of a traumatized sixteen-year-old girl? As for raising Isabelle, yes, I did enjoy raising her. She was a fun kid; you know that as well as I do. You abandoned them, Black. You should be grateful that I saved their little lives and bothered to make sure that they were taken care of."

Sirius snorted. "Bet you just loved the fact that I walked in front of my own child for years and didn't recognize her, thanks to you! And, I really appreciate you changing her name. Nice touch."

"I thought so," Severus said snidely. "Be happy I reversed the Fidelius Charm so that you could attempt to salvage what's left of your pathetic life. Trust me, I wouldn't have done it if I knew what you were going to do to Isabelle. She deserves much better than you. It's your fault that she turned out the way she did."

"No, I think that damage was done long before my time. All I ever tried to do was do right by her. I'm not perfect, and I've never pretended to be. But, I raised her the best way that I could. What she deserves is someone who loves her unconditionally, and tries to make her happy."

"And you think that you fit that description?" Severus asked in a mixed tone of sarcasm and skepticism.

"Yes, I do," he said flatly.

"All you've ever done is hurt her and let her down. Every time that she's needed you the most, you've never been there. But, funny how when _you_ need help, she drops everything for you. News flash, Black – she had a life before last July. She had friends, a career, an entire life that nothing to do with you. And, she gave it all up, knowing that her psychotic ex-husband would come after her. She's laying there, nearly dead, because of you!"

"No, she's laying there because that psycho attacked her. We both know that it was just a matter of time before he found her in Virginia, and so did Isabelle. She didn't have anything to lose by revealing her identity, but she had a whole hell of a lot to gain. Like her family. Have you ever taken the time to watch her with the children? Being with them brings her a joy that I've never seen her had, and I bet deep down in your pitch-black, callous heart, you know that I'm telling the truth."

"And," Sirius continued, "I wouldn't be so smug if I was you. Where were you when Remizov threw her into prison? Oh, sorry, nowhere to be found. What about when Malfoy preyed on her? You didn't lift a finger to help her. I think what was going on was pretty damn obvious. He treated Isabelle about as well as his house elf. She gets up enough courage to leave whole situation, and ends up barely alive. _Then_ you show up."

"I didn't just 'show up'. Who do you think kept Remizov from finding her? Who comforted her as she watched her daughter slowly die? _I_ did. I went with her to bury Kate, and I took care of her when she couldn't even walk. I was there for her when she needed me, which is more than I can say for you."

"I would have been there if I had known! Don't you think I know how much it hurts to watch someone you love die, and know there's not a thing you can do to stop it? Or how it feels to mourn a child? Not to mention that I certainly can relate to the long-term effects of being thrown into Azkaban when you haven't done anything wrong. Isabelle and I are soul mates, Snape, and nothing you say will change that."

"Only because you can't keep your bloody hands off her. You raised her!" he reminded Sirius. "Doesn't that make you feel the least bit guilty?"

"Of course it did! And, still does, although that's not your business."

"Amazing how a tumble or two can wash away shame."

Sirius had finally had enough of Severus' sanctimonious attitude. "There is nothing shameful about Isabelle, or with being with her. Regina herself tried to tell me shortly before she died that I'd fall for Isabelle, but I didn't believe her. I tried to adopt her, for Christ's sake! The last thing I ever expected was to feel this way, but I do."

"What would Regina know, anyway?" he asked, clearly rattled.

"More than we ever will. The more I think about it, the more I'm convinced that she could See. Not as much as Mummy P did, but she Saw enough. The Sight is a family trait on her mother's side," Sirius explained curtly.

Hermione fell to the floor limply and put her head in her hands. Earlier that day, she recognized Isabelle as the woman from her dreams. Now, she realized that she wasn't having dreams at all. They were memories of her childhood. And, the 'dreams' about the future weren't dreams, either. They were visions, just like she suspected. A funny smile passed over her face.

Take that, Trelawney, she thought spitefully. I _am_ a Seer, which makes you a big, fat phony.

As Severus viciously responded to Sirius' statement, Professor Dumbledore quietly walked past the three eavesdroppers. He rounded the corner and cleared his throat to get their attention. Both men immediately fell silent, not wanting to argue in front of the headmaster.

Knowing that the argument was as good as over, Harry tugged on Ron and Hermione's robes so that they could leave the hospital wing before anyone else caught them. He practically had to carry his traumatized cousin into the hallway, followed by a suspiciously calm Ron, who acted unsurprised during the whole argument.

When the trio snuck into the empty common room, Hermione completely broke down, shattered by the events of the day. She desperately wished that she could go back to bed, pull the covers over her head, and pretend like today didn't happen. Like it was a horrible dream. Except, she reminded herself, my nightmares become real.

Somehow she managed to walk to a couch, surrounded by Harry on one side and Ron on the other. No one said a word for several minutes, each afraid to break the silence. That, and no one knew quite what to say.

"Um, Hermione?" Harry said gently. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"What's there to say? Once again, my entire concept of reality has been turned upside down. I hate her. I hate her so much that I can barely see straight."

"Hate who?" Ron asked. Harry winced and sat back, bracing for the storm.

"My mother," she spat. "How could she run off and marry that – that – ooh! I hate him, too. They deserved each other. I don't feel sorry for Snape one little bit, and I'm not wasting any more tears on my mother. She lied to my father for years about being sick. I'm glad she's dead; Papa deserves so much better than her."

"Hermione!" Harry admonished her, flabbergasted. She turned and looked him straight in the eye.

"He does. All he ever did was worship the ground my mother walked on. And, that's how she repays him? She makes me sick."

"Aren't you being a little hard on her? I mean, Sirius did ditch her for Isabelle way back when. Maybe Snape was different back then," Ron offered, trying to calm Hermione down and make her see some sort of reason.

"Isabelle was an orphaned eight-year old girl who couldn't even communicate with anyone except for my father. And, he was the only person that she trusted. What do you know about my family, anyway?" she snorted, suddenly tired of his attitude.

More than you know, love, Ron thought, narrowing his eyes thoughtfully.

"What? You _knew_ about Snape and Aunt Regina all this time, and you didn't tell us?" Harry exclaimed, staring at his friend disbelievingly.

He didn't realize what he was saying, or the possible consequences of his words until it was too late. Hermione looked at Ron with a mixed look of rage and devastation. He looked at Harry, opening and closing his mouth, attempting to find his voice.

"Is that true?"

Ron looked into her wounded eyes, and wanted to lie. But, he just couldn't. "Yes."

"How?" she pressed.

Harry wanted the floor to swallow him whole. It really wasn't their business how Ron figured things out before they did, and it certainly wasn't fair to use his own thoughts against him. Especially since he knew what was coming next, and it wasn't going to be pretty.

"Attorney-client privilege," he said simply. "I'm sorry, Hermione. I wanted to tell you, but I couldn't. It's illegal."

"You lied to me. Lie by omission is still a lie, and I don't really care about your precious attorney-client privilege. This is my life, my family, which we're talking about here! I knew it was a little funny that you didn't seem at all surprised back there in the hospital wing."

"Hermione, please let me explain," he begged. She shot him a look of pure venom.

"I don't want to hear another word from you, _ever_. I thought we had something, Ron. Something special, but I was so wrong. To think, I was going to dump Viktor today for you. He died for me. What have you done for me? Hidden the truth about my own family."

She stood up and wiped the tears off her face. "I gave you everything I had, and I wish to everything holy that I could take it back. All of those late night talks and endless study sessions – wasted time. Not to mention my heart; I gave that to you and you just stomped on it."

"This isn't my fault," Ron protested lamely. "I didn't do anything wrong, here. Stop blaming me for what Sirius didn't tell you. Obviously he had a good reason not to, because you're certainly not taking the news well. Put yourself in my place for a minute. If I told you that your mother married Snape, then I'd be breaking ethics laws. I want to be a lawyer, Hermione. And part of that is keeping your mouth shut, even when you don't want to. Don't you think that I wanted to tell you? Of course I did! I started to tell you a thousand times."

"What stopped you?" she fumed.

"The idea of being brought up on ethics charges. Not to mention what Sirius would do to me if he found out that I told you. I love you more than anything, and the last thing that I ever wanted to do was to hurt you. Please believe me," he said quietly.

"How can I? What else are you hiding from me? I don't trust you, and I don't think I ever will again."

Harry watched in horror as Hermione stood up and ran out of the common room, bawling. Without even looking in his direction, Ron headed for their dorm room, wiping away his own tears before walking up the staircase. Between causing his best friends to break up, and his Aunt Isabelle being in a coma, this was by far the worst day in Harry's life.

-----

"Come on, Harry, you have to eat something," Ginny coaxed him, trying to tempt him with his favorite pudding. He had barely eaten a thing in days, and was beginning to worry her. 

"I'm not hungry," he said listlessly, staring blankly at his Astronomy notes.

"You sound just like Ron," she remarked, knowing that they weren't on speaking terms.

"How is he?"

"Well, considering that he's barely left his bed for days, hasn't eaten anything and refuses to talk about it, I'd say he's doing pretty badly."

"It's all my fault," Harry said, putting his head in his hands. "Me and my big mouth."

"Pretty much," Ginny agreed.

"Thanks for the support."

"I'm here, aren't I?"

"True."

"You know that Ron thinks that you're mad at him, too," she said casually. Harry's head shot up.

"What? I thought that he was mad at me."

"Nope. Just heartbroken. He must really have it bad for Hermione. I've never seen him cry before."

Harry felt even more awful, and swore to watch what he said more carefully from now on. Ginny smiled at him sympathetically, knowing how horrible he must feel.

"How's Isabelle?" she asked conversationally, changing the subject.

"The same," he replied, frustrated. "None of the doctors Sirius keeps shipping in knows why she's in a coma. All they say is that the more time she's unconscious, the less likely it is that she'll ever wake up. Cheerful thought, huh?"

"Are you going to go visit her today?"

Harry nodded. "Yeah, after Quiddich practice."

"Want company?"

"Sure," he said gratefully, wondering what he would do without Ginny's support. "It's so funny how someone you've known for less than a year can become so much a part of your life that you can't imagine living without them."

"Well, don't imagine it because she'll snap out of the coma in no time," she said reassuringly.

"She shouldn't even be in that coma! It's all my fault, Virginia."

"How? You didn't force her to marry that abusive git."

"No, but she _stayed_ married to him because of me. Because my life was in danger, she was gathering information to protect me. She's been helping me all these years, and I didn't know it. I didn't know that she even existed!"

"So, you shouldn't feel guilty, Harry. She wanted to help you, or she wouldn't have bothered. That's what families do – they help each other."

"Who helps Aunt Isabelle?" he roared, venting his anger at both Sirius and Professor Snape. "Who's looking out for her? _They_ sure aren't!"

Knowing exactly whom he was talking about, Ginny chose her words carefully. "Then it's a good thing she can count on you. Speaking of counting on people, why don't you go talk to Ron? I think he could really use you right about now."

"Yeah, you're right. I seriously owe him an apology."

"Damn straight." She giggled at the shocked look on his face. "What? You wrecked my brother's love life. What did you expect me to say?"


	35. Chapter 32

**Author's Note: **Here's the final chapter in Part V! I hope to start uploading Part VI, my twisted version of Book 6, shortly. Thank you so much for reading, & as per regular, reviews are good. Very good...

* * *

**Chapter 32**

Hermione quietly cracked open the door to the hospital wing. She breathed a sigh of relief, glad to see that Sirius was parked in a chair by Isabelle's bed, not Snape. Ever since the night of the argument nearly a month ago, she hadn't gone within a hundred feet of Professor Snape. She managed to get out of Potions class with the excuse that being where Viktor used to teach was still too difficult for her to handle.

Which was partially the truth. Her heart broke when his parents came to take his body back to Bulgaria for burial, especially since they were so sweet to her. She could hardly bear the guilt that he sacrificed his life for her, because she didn't deserve it in the slightest. In fact, if she hadn't been such a coward, and had broken up with him after Christmas, he would still be alive.

But, the real reason she avoided the Dungeons is that the sight of Professor Snape literally made her sick to her stomach. Sometimes when she sat studying alone in the library, his words flooded her mind. How he blamed her for her mother's death. That by itself was difficult to hear, but when she thought of him and her mother together in New York, her temper flared uncontrollably.

As she walked through the corridor, she silently thanked Professor Lupin for mediating between her father and Professor Snape. For the first week that Isabelle was in a coma, the two men constantly fought about who was going to keep her company. Finally, Professor Lupin offered a compromise, and arranged a schedule that appeased everyone.

Sirius was hastily scribbling in a notebook, and didn't hear her approaching footsteps. Lately, his nose was constantly buried in that notebook, but no one knew what he was doing. Once, Harry nicked it from the hospital wing and peeked inside. He said the pages were filled with unintelligible garble. Disappointed, he brought it back almost immediately.

Whatever it was, it kept her father occupied. The odd thing, in Hermione's point of view, is that he was using a mechanical pencil as his writing implement. Since when did Sirius Black use anything made by Muggles? He was nearly as bad as a Slytherin when it came to avoiding Muggle products. She shrugged, puzzled.

"What are you doing?" she asked suspiciously.

Sirius' head popped out of his notebook. "Working on a little project. Why?"

"Just curious." She couldn't help herself. "What kind of project?"

"The kind that's not your business."

Hermione wrinkled her nose. "Fine. Be that way. Why are you using a mechanical pencil?"

"Why are you so full of questions?" he asked, exasperated. He passed her the notebook. "Here, this is what I'm doing."

"I don't get it. It's just a bunch of lines and squiggles and stuff. Is it some kind of magical spell to help Isabelle get out of the coma?"

"Nope. But, it is for her," he said mysteriously.

"Well, I hope she likes weird lines and squiggles. Are those words?" She squinted and peered at the page. "What language is that?"

"Spanish. It's my native language."

"Why?"

"Because of Abuela. This is starting to remind me of when you were little," he laughed. "Anything else?"

"Why are you writing in Spanish?"

"So nosy children who nick my notebook can't read what I'm writing."

"That wasn't me," Hermione said defensively.

"Tattle-tale," Sirius teased, taking back the notebook and pocketing it in his robes. "How are the O.W.L. tests going?"

"Great, since I'm exempt from the Transfiguration O.W.L. exam. Wanna know what people were saying about the exam you wrote?"

"Probably involved a lot of swearing."

"Yup. You're not very popular right now with the fifth-year crowd. All of the seventh-years are living in fear of your N.E.W.T. exam." She grinned evilly. "I'm so proud."

"Thanks," he said wryly.

"Anything new with Isabelle?"

"Same old, same old." Sirius sighed, suddenly looking very weary. "It's been a month today since…"

"Since you put me in therapy," she finished.

"You needed it," he said firmly.

"I'm not debating the point. But, do I really have to go--"

"Yes, you really have to go to the Grangers' for the summer. Everyone agrees that it's best for you to get a vacation from the wizarding world for a little while."

"Everyone but me," Hermione mumbled sourly.

"Life's not fair. The sooner you learn it--"

"The better off you'll be," she said in a singsong voice. "Fine, whatever."

Sirius fought the urge to laugh at the incredibly grumpy look on her face. Obviously, she was used to getting what she wanted with little opposition. For her part, Hermione crossed her arms and glared at him silently, until she finally realized that he wasn't going to cave in.

"Don't you have exams to grade or something?" she asked crossly.

"Trying to get rid of me?" He raised an eyebrow.

"Uh-huh. Maybe I'd like to spend some time alone with Isabelle before _he_ gets here."

"Well, I can't fault you there. Just come get me if she wakes up, ok?"

"Promise," she swore.

She watched Sirius gather up his things, and leave the hospital wing. Once she was certain that he was gone, she flopped down on the bed beside Isabelle and sat Indian-style.

"Hey, it's me again," Hermione began, holding her limp hand in hers. "I _finally_ get you all to myself, and there's a lot that I have to say. So, hope you're not going anywhere for a while. Ok, that was a really lame joke."

All of a sudden, she got the eerie feeling that someone else was in the room, watching her. She slowly turned her head; shocked to see Draco Malfoy's piercing blue eyes bore into hers. He crossed his arms defensively.

"I have just as much right to be here as you do," he spat.

Hermione looked at him thoughtfully. In the past few weeks, she devoted a lot of time to what Isabelle said about her daughter Kate. And, until this moment, she didn't believe it at all. But, here Draco was. Why else would he care unless Isabelle _did_ have an affair with his father? She wanted answers, so she decided to swallow her pride and play nice.

"I didn't say anything. It's just that I haven't seen you visit Isabelle, that's all," Hermione said in her nicest voice. Clearly shaken, Draco stared at her, wondering what her hidden agenda was.

"That's because I try to come around when Professor Snape's watching her," he explained.

"Oh. You can come sit down if you like." She tried not to choke on the words.

"Ok," Draco said slowly, crossing the room and sitting down stiffly. "How is she?"

"The same."

He nodded curtly. "I'm glad she killed the bastard."

"Me, too," Hermione agreed.

"Ha, what do you know about what he used to do to her?" he seethed. She looked at him wide-eyed.

"Nothing. Why don't you tell me about it?"

Against his better judgment, Draco took a deep breath before venting. "Well, it's kind of a long story. The short version of it is that I spent many, many nights listening to Remizov pound the crap out of Isabelle. And, I couldn't do a damn thing to stop him, and Father refused to get involved, the coward."

"That must've been horrible," Hermione sympathized.

"You have no idea."

"I sort of do. He was pretty violent the day that--" her voice trailed off.

"Yeah, nice of my father not to warn her, or show up to defend her. So typical."

"What do you mean?"

Draco sighed, wondering whether or not to trust her. He'd never told a soul how he felt about any of this. Hermione sensed his hesitation, and tried to look as friendly and trustworthy as possible.

"Isabelle is the only mum that I've ever had," he said simply. "Before she showed up at Malfoy Manor, no one really paid attention to me. Sure, I had a ton of servants, and anything I wanted. But, it was pretty boring, to tell the truth."

"I'm an only child; I totally understand that. Why do you think I read so much?" Hermione rolled her eyes.

"Because you're a nerdy prat?" He grinned evilly. She gave him a withering stare.

"And to think I was actually being nice to you."

"Nice or not, you asked for that one. Anyway, when she was at the Manor, she made the place fun. She even made my father fun to be around."

"I so totally don't believe that one," Hermione snorted.

"Believe it. Once, she managed to talk him into taking me and Isabelle to Madame Taussaud's in London. Get this – Father not only went; he wore Muggle clothes."

"No way." She crossed her arms.

"I couldn't believe it, either. It's true, though. Go ahead and ask her when she wakes up. It was definitely the best day of my life," he said nostalgically. "Isabelle charmed the wax statues of the Beatles to dance around and sing. They gave a great show, and it was hilarious to watch the museum staff try to figure out what was going on. It was the first time that I've ever really seen my father laugh."

Hermione burst into giggles picturing the scene. "I can _so_ see her doing that."

"Yeah, I was sort of hoping that--" He shut up abruptly, shocked at what he was about to say.

"That Isabelle and your father would stay together," she finished. Draco looked at her suspiciously.

"What do you mean by that?"

She sighed. "Before I ran out of the house that day, I overheard Isabelle say that her daughter Kate is your sister. Is that true?"

"Yeah. But, if you embarrass Isabelle and tell anyone, I promise that you'll live to regret it," he warned.

"I won't. She's my mum, too. I was just too thick to put two and two together."

"Huh?" Draco looked genuinely puzzled.

Now it was Hermione's turn to take a leap of faith and divulge a confidence. "Ever since I was little girl, I've had dreams about my 'real' family. I'd wake up and try to remember every little detail so that I would recognize them when they finally came to take me home."

"How little orphan Annie of you," he said snidely.

"Isn't it though?" she laughed. "I dreamt the most about this house in the country, with a really big yard. It was warm, so I guess it was summertime. Most of my dreams were about my mother and I. I only had a couple of dreams that had both of my parents in them, and one or two with just my father."

"Uh, your mother's dead," Draco pointed out.

"I'm getting to that part," she huffed. "Anyway, at least once a week, I'd dream about saying goodbye to my mother. She always told me that she loved me, and to be good for my new parents. And, that a bad wizard made my father go away."

"Now I know that you're a nutcase," he muttered.

"Cute. I always interpreted that dream to mean that a bad wizard killed my father. And that my and my mother's lives were in danger, so she put me with new parents until everything was safe. So, every day I'd hope that my real mother would come and take me home, even though my parents were great to me."

"This still doesn't make any sense."

"Oh, it gets even more confusing. All my life, I dreamt that I had a blonde mother and a dark-haired father. Which is how I got brown hair – kind of a cross between them. When I got my letter for Hogwarts, something clicked. Especially when I heard Harry's story about how Voldie killed his parents. I figured that he must've killed my father, too, so I started researching all of Voldemort's victims."

"Find anything?"

Draco was genuinely curious. It was rare that he had an actual conversation with someone. So, he was enjoying himself, even if it was Hermione that he was talking to.

"Nope. No killings of dark-haired wizards with blonde wives and small children. I was trying to come up with another theory when all hell broke loose last summer. That was when I learned that everything I thought about my family was totally wrong. I remember the first time that I saw a picture of my 'real' parents. The only thing that was going through my mind is that my mother's blonde, not dark-haired. _My_ mother didn't even exist, and all those dreams weren't real."

"That sucks," Draco drawled.

"No joke. I thought I had totally lost my mind, especially when the dreams didn't stop. For some reason, maybe stress or something, I finally figured everything out the day of the attack."

"And?"

"And," Hermione made a face at him, "I'm not nuts after all. Hey – no comments from the peanut gallery!"

"You got that from Isabelle, didn't you?" He wrinkled his nose.

"Yes, Isabelle. Who just so happens to be the blonde-haired woman from my dreams, that weren't dreams at all. They were visions of the past. I asked Professor Lupin a couple of weeks ago if I called Isabelle 'Mummy', and he said that I did. Which explains that part. And the thing about the bad wizard and all _really_ meant that Papa was rotting in Azkaban prison, not that he was dead. Although I've heard that Azkaban is like a living death, but that's not the point."

"So, that's your really long way of saying that both of us consider Isabelle our mother?" He raised an eyebrow as Hermione nodded. "Damn it. I have something in common with _you_?"

"'Fraid so. That, and we both treated her like crap."

Both teenagers sat in guilty silence for a few minutes. Draco stared down at his feet, which were propped up on the side of Isabelle's bed. He looked up at Hermione, who was tracing the pattern of the blanket with her index finger.

"I was jealous of you," he admitted in a barely audible voice.

"Of me?" she asked incredulously.

"Yeah. Isabelle abandoned me before third year. Granted, I know why she did it, and I don't blame her at all. My father wouldn't protect her from Remizov, and she had to leave them both to try and keep my sister safe. I just wished that she had taken me, too."

"Oh."

"Then, she suddenly shows back up as Potter's aunt. Which totally killed any hope of her and Father ever getting back together, for starters. Not to mention that she kept paying attention to you, attention that I wished that she paid me, and you just ignored her."

"I'm not proud of that," she said softly.

"You _should_ be ashamed of yourself," Draco scolded her harshly. "What did she ever do to you other than love you? You threw all of her love and kindness back in her face, and she just came back for more."

"I'm sorry." Her chin quivered.

"At least Potter treats her right, which is about the only good thing I can say about him. Black's not half bad, either. Better than Father, anyway. I just want her to be happy."

Hermione watched the expression on his face change with his last statement, and truly knew that he meant it. Maybe Draco wasn't so bad, after all. Her face pursed as if her brain had been flooded with a lethal poison.

"So do I," she agreed. "It would probably make her happy if we didn't fight all the time."

"Well, how about a truce, then? For Isabelle's sake," he quickly added, extending his hand.

"For Isabelle's sake," she repeated, shaking his hand in a business-like fashion.

With one handshake, the most unlikely friendship formed between two former enemies. Strangely, the more they talked, the more Hermione and Draco found that they had in common. After a few minutes, they pulled out their Potions notes, and had an impromptu review session for the next day's O.W.L. test. Seeing Isabelle lying there inspired them to do the best that they could, as a sort of penance for past wrongs against her.

-----

"…I guess she can stay here until the house is rebuilt. Is she strong enough to be moved?" 

"Honestly, Mr. Black, I'm not sure. Until we're sure about what's going on with the baby, I don't want to risk it."

_The baby?_ Isabelle's eyes flew open in a panic.

She blinked frantically, trying to bring them into focus. After a minute, the room lost enough of its fuzziness for her to realize that she was in the hospital wing. Sirius was deep in conversation with Dr. Richardson, and neither of them noticed her trying to get their attention. Frustrated, she tried to speak, but her mouth was completely dry.

"Siri--" she managed to rasp out.

Thinking he was imagining things, he glanced at the bed out of the corner of his eye, shocked to see Isabelle's huge green eyes staring at him. Without finishing his sentence, he rushed over and knelt beside her bed, taking her hand into his.

She didn't know whether it was whatever landed her in the hospital wing, or his huge crooked grin that instantly made a thousand butterflies start flying in her stomach and her head feel dizzy.

Or, perhaps it's the baby, she thought positively. How long have I been in this place, anyway?

"Hi," she croaked out.

"Hi, yourself," he said happily without taking his eyes off her for a second. "You gave us a real scare, Isabelle. How are you feeling?"

"Water," she replied in a gravelly voice. He immediately conjured up a huge glass of icy cold water, which felt like heaven to Isabelle's parched throat.

"W-why am I here?" she asked, closing her eyes to brace for the answer.

"Well," Sirius began quietly, "Remizov attacked you almost a month and a half ago."

She nodded. "I remember. How's Gracie?"

"In her words, other than the O.W.L. tests, she's doing great."

Typical Isabelle, he thought. Always looking out for other people before herself.

"Did you put her in therapy because of Viktor?" she said half-jokingly, having been on the receiving end of Sirius' number one parenting motto many times. When in doubt, find a therapist.

"Of course," he said, pretending to be offended. She knew him far too well.

"And Harry?"

"Worried sick about you, just like the rest of us."

Isabelle smiled. "Nice to be loved."

"Yeah, well, you are loved." His tone of voice and facial expression made her feel dizzy again.

Maybe things will turn out all right, she thought with a small smile. Suddenly, her face fell.

"What's wrong with the baby?" she asked tensely, looking at Dr. Richardson.

"Nothing so far," the doctor assured Isabelle. "All of the major organs seem to be developing fine. But, we're waiting for the results of tests and lab work to make sure that the fight you had with your husband didn't do any permanent damage to the baby."

"Husband?" She turned to Sirius.

"Your late husband," he said with a grin. "You did a real number on him, Belle."

Something finally occurred to her. "How did you find out about the baby?"

"Snape. He'll probably be here in a few minutes," he explained with a sour look on his face.

"So, you _know_ about the baby?" she inquired, studying his face closely for his reaction.

"Yes."

"What do you think about it?"

"I think that we need to talk about a lot of things, including the baby. But, I _do_ love you, Isabelle."

Dr. Richardson looked incredibly uncomfortable. "Ms. Evans, could you owl my office to set up an appointment after you see your family physician?"

"Sure," she said, eager to be alone with Sirius.

"I'll talk to you later, then." The doctor practically ran out of the hospital wing.

"Looks like we scared her off," Sirius laughed.

"Seems that way."

"Before I say anything else, thank you for saving Gracie's life. Again."

"No problem." She smiled, completely lost in his beautiful grey eyes. "Say, what's today?"

He blinked at the abrupt change in conversation. "Wednesday, June 26th. Two days before _someone's_ birthday."

"Wonder who?" she said innocently, looking around the room and under the bed.

"Someone I'm desperately in love with," he said, taking her breath away. "Isabelle, when you were lying there, the only thing I could think of is how badly I've treated you. I'm so sorry for everything."

"Me, too," she agreed softly.

"And, it doesn't matter to me who the baby belongs to. All that matters is that I love you, and if you'll have me, I want to marry you. I want to be a family. You've always treated Gracie like she was your own, and I'll do the same for your child."

Isabelle stared at him in complete disbelief. "W-what? You want what?"

"To marry--"

"I got that part," she said, gathering strength. "I think you need to leave."

Sirius looked like someone had driven a stake through his heart. "Isabelle--"

"Don't Isabelle me. In fact, I don't want to hear another word from you. Leave. _Leave!_" Her scream echoed through the corridor.

Brokenhearted by the way she turned on him, he stood up and marched out of the hospital wing angrily. She heard him slam the door, and buried her head in a large fluffy pillow to muffle her sobs.

-----

Harry stormed through the castle, completely oblivious to the chattering students milling about the hallways. Ignoring the friendly waves and greetings, he stomped up the maze of moving staircases. He burst into Sirius' office without knocking, and glared at him with a look of pure rage. 

"Can I help you with something?" Sirius asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Yes. Please explain why in the bloody hell you felt the urge to break my aunt's heart exactly five minutes after she wakes up from a month long coma!"

He blinked. "Not that it's your business, but she didn't seem particularly hurt in the slightest."

"Which goes to show just how little you know her in the first place," Harry snapped, slamming the office door behind him.

"Oh, and you do?" he challenged.

"Actually, yes. While you've been off being the asshole of the year, whom do you think that she's talked to? Give you a hint – it wasn't the tooth fairy."

That stung Sirius, who was used to being Isabelle's confidant through the years. And, he didn't especially enjoy being told off by Harry, who was being annoyingly like James at the moment.

"Fine," Sirius said sarcastically, crossing his arms. "Educate me then."

"Be glad to," he spat. "First off, I'm sick of you treating Isabelle like a second-class citizen to your precious Regina."

"What are you talking about?" he roared, finally angry.

"I think it's pretty self-explanatory, but hey, you're notoriously thick. So, I guess I'll have to spell it out for you. For some reason, you've put my Aunt Regina on a pedestal where she can do no wrong. And in your opinion, Aunt Isabelle isn't even worthy to occupy the dirt that Aunt Regina's pedestal sits on."

"That's not true," Sirius said forcefully.

"It is true. Aunt Regina lied to you for years about being sick because she was afraid of what you'd say. She died rather than tell you the truth, and left the lovely job of cleaning up the mess my fifteen-year old Aunt Isabelle. Who, incidentally, has never lied about her mistakes."

Harry paused to make sure that he was listening. "She's not perfect; I know she's not. But, Aunt Isabelle has always owned up to the consequences of her actions, no matter what people might say about her. She's honest, and has always talked to Hermione and I about not repeating her mistakes."

"I don't need this right now," he said dismissively. His irate nephew walked up to him and grabbed him by the collar roughly.

"Oh, I think you do. Aunt Isabelle made you the man you are today, no one else. Her letter got you out of prison. She made a human being out of you. Not only that, but she put this family back together almost single-handedly."

"No, your _saintly_ aunt tore everything apart."

"She is a saint; she's put up with your shit for years! I'm sick of your arrogant attitude towards her. You know nothing about her character. If you did, you'd know that she'd never cheat on you."

"Ha," he spat.

Harry took one look at the self-righteous look on his face and punched him with every bit of force he could muster. His fist connected with Sirius' jaw instantly, sending the unsuspecting older wizard tumbling to the ground.

"Stay the hell away from my aunt and the baby," he warned. "Congratulations, you have a son, not that you're going to claim either of them. They'll probably be better off for it. Have a good summer, uncle. I'm spending mine with my family."

Sirius clutched his jaw, stunned, as Harry left the office without giving him another look. He leaned his head against his desk, with Harry's words playing over and over in his mind.


End file.
